


Real Dreams

by NightSky2004



Series: Fake People [2]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Adventure, F/M, Family, Gen, Teenage Neal Caffrey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2018-06-01 19:10:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 52,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6532762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightSky2004/pseuds/NightSky2004
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No matter what happens the Earth continues to spin. You think that everything is over, but it's not. The case is closed, but the investigation continues. Solving one mystery only brings ten thousand more questions. It's difficult to pick a side, especially when you have loads of homework. Teen!Neal, no slash. Sequel to "Fake people".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New beginnings, old habits

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This story is a sequel to another story called "Fake people". You need to read that story first to understand what's going on here.
> 
> And to everybody who was waiting for the sequel! I'm grateful to you all. If it wasn't for you, my amazing readers, this story wouldn't exist. Here is the first chapter! I hope you'll enjoy reading!
> 
> I still don't own "White Collar".

Elizabeth Burke's heart clenched. And who could possibly stay untouched by those pleading, ocean-blue eyes?

"Elizabeth, I can't…"

With swift, gentle movements El straightened Neal's shirt and put her hands on the boy's shoulders.

"Neal, you've been through a lot, but somehow you managed to stay strong. This is not the time to give up."

"El, please! I want to stay here, with you!"

Neal dropped his gaze to the floor, when Elizabeth sighed and shook her head.

"Sweetie, you know that it's not something I can change…"

"Elizabeth, I'll be good. You won't even know I'm here! Please! Think of another punishment. I'll do anything but this!"

"Neal, we've discussed this and you know it's not a punishment." replied Elizabeth, giving Neal his bag and leading him to the door. "This is for your own good."

The teenager was about to protest but a sudden noise of the car's horn stopped him. Neal glared at the driver, whose dwarf of a car was parked right in front of the house.

Neal felt El's arms around him and in a blink of an eye, found himself in a warm, loving embrace. For a second Neal wanted to push the woman away, but quickly came to his senses. He couldn't be angry with her, not now, not ever. Especially now, when he needed her comfort the most. Elizabeth was one of the few reasons left to be happy. But he had to leave her to go to a place filled with strangers…

"I'll see you really soon, sweetheart. You won't even notice how the time will pass."

"Somehow I doubt that." grumbled the teenager and made his way to the car. Sitting at the passenger's seat, Neal glanced at the driver. How could he be so happy?!

Neal turned to look out of the window, in hopes of getting a little more confident and calm. When the car was driving past the park, where Neal occasionally met with Mozzie, the teenager smiled. It was a small sad smile, but still a smile. In sight of the recent events Neal found it difficult to be in a good mood. He wanted to hide somewhere and never come out, and he would have done something of that sort, if it wasn't for El. Her plan of making sure Neal was always occupied worked like a charm. But as soon as the young con was left with his thoughts, the world around him dressed in black. Strangely enough, even painting didn't help to bring back the colours to life. All Neal wanted… No, that is not the right thing to say, because he didn't want anything… And when someone loses any interest to life…

"Such a wonderful day, don't you think so, Neal?"

"Yeah, sure…"

"I don't remember my first day at high school, but I do remember Peter's." continued the driver.

At some other time Neal would be all ears, listening to a story about Peter, but today he wasn't paying any attention.

"Richard, can we leave this story for another time? I don't want to talk about…"

"Why not?" asked the agent's father, looking at the teenager, who just turned away and sighed deeply.

"It's just… Don't get me wrong, you're awesome, Richard…" started Neal.

"You can call me Grandpa. I'm not like Mandy who insists, but, you know, I'd like that. But no pressure, Neal. So, you were saying?"

"I just wish it was Peter… I want him to be here today. I know that he's…" Neal stopped himself and closed his eyes.

"No matter where he is, I bet he's proud of you. We all are. And although you're not up to listening to the story, I'm still gonna tell it. So, as I said, it was Pete's first day of high school. He got all dressed up and…"

The rest of their way Richard talked about pretty much everything, while Neal's mind was focused on two topics: Peter and school. But the closer they were getting to the dread destination, the further Peter was hiding in Neal's subconscious. The teenager's heart was beating faster with every passing minute, and by the time Richard stopped his "baby", Neal couldn't feel or hear anything except for that rhythmic beating. Only Richard's booming voice and the colliding of his strong hand with Neal's shoulder, managed to bring the boy back to his senses.

"You'll be alright, kid. Just go and enjoy yourself. It's the best time of your life, believe me."

Putting one shaky foot at a time on the ground and still not daring to get out of the small vehicle, Neal turned to look at Richard, who did nothing but winked in encouragement.

"Just remember to breathe, buddy."

Breathing did help Neal a little and soon he was entering the building of school, using his "Caffrey charm" to hide any evidence of anxiety.

* * *

Neal was grateful when it was finally lunch time. He survived the first half of the day, and had to admit that his fears were unreasonable. Surely, there wasn't much excitement, but nothing bad happened either. Neal was adored by the female population and quickly made friends with some guys. There were people who didn't like Neal… And would you like some new guy, at whom your girlfriend looks with big dreamy eyes?! Speaking of girls…

Neal turned around when his eyes caught the sight of braided ginger hair. The girl went past Neal, not even noticing his presence. There was something about that girl. You could see her, but at the same time she wasn't, well, very "noticeable"… Focus, Neal! You don't even know each other, but she already hates you.

The young forger sighed when he remembered his first class: calculus. According to his teacher, Mrs. Nash, Neal would never be able to do anything rational with numbers. Oh, well. No need to put any effort into this subject then. But it still wasn't the most pleasant thing to hear on his first day, especially when he knew that it wasn't true. Of course Neal missed out a lot of important stuff during his "extended break" from school, but it didn't mean he was the lost cause. Why would the teacher say so? Maybe it had something to do with Neal thinking her name was Mrs. Rash…

And then it was that girl with ginger hair. What was her name? Neal was sitting next to her in calculus, but she ignored him. Actually, she wasn't the only one. Neal hadn't even spared a look in her direction during the whole time, and then he successfully forgot about her and was reminded of her existence only a few minutes ago.

"Whoa! Hey, Curly Sue! Is that really you?"

Neal froze. Only one person could call him that name. Was that… No, that was simply impossible!

"Roger!"

Neal still couldn't believe his own eyes. In front of him was standing a tall, plump guy with red chubby cheeks and a big tomato-like nose of the same colour. His flaxen-haired head was a bit big for his body, which made his whole appearance rather ridiculous.

"Glad you still remember my name! Come on, sit with us, and tell me everything about yourself. We haven't seen each other for like… four years!"

When they reached the table, Neal saw that a few guys were already there. The young forger didn't know any of them, but after a few seconds his eyes stopped on one of the boys, who slightly shook his head, as if he wanted to adjust his coal black hair. Neal understood the gesture as not to reveal that they were already acquainted and lowered his head in agreement. This silent exchange went unnoticed and soon Roger was introducing Neal to his friends. The young con smiled and greeted everybody, while his mind was focused only on the black-haired guy. Neal never expected to see anyone from Kate's gang at school!

"And this is Tim. He's…" Roger continued talking in his low, grating voice.

Tim. So that's Prince's name. Interesting. And his friends probably don't know about his hobbies…

"Nice to meet you, Tim." said Neal shaking hands with the guy, who simply nodded and then took his seat, slowly straightening his shamrock green jacket.

"So, Neal, what have you been up to all these years? Not a single phone call since you left! By the way, what happened back then?"

"Ellen was hit by a drunken driver." stated Neal.

"I'm sorry, dude. She was a great woman." replied Roger with sympathy and laid his hand on Neal's shoulder.

The rest of the boys kept silence. Tim turned away for a moment and returned his eyes on Neal, when he began talking again.

"Yeah… Anyway, then I bounced from one foster home to another for about a year. And then…"

"What happened?" asked one of the boys.

"It's actually a long and boring story." smiled Caffrey, not eager to continue this conversation.

A pretty brunette in a short skirt saved Neal from an uncomfortable chat just by walking by. All eyes turned to her, while Roger went further than just looking and whistled loudly, getting a disdainful glare from the girl.

"Hey, Rog, remember how we used to lay down under the staircase to look at the girls." started laughing Neal.

"You bet! The girls were making noises like whales at dinner time!"

A roar of laughter arose and soon everybody was sharing various stories, until it was time to get back to classes. Roger and Neal headed in the same direction, as they had chemistry together.

"Mr. Conner is one of the coolest teachers ever. But he also gives the most difficult tests. Rumour has it that he keeps those tests in a safe, which he made himself. Not a single living soul managed to break into it."

Roger was speaking very quietly, although there was no need for that. Even if somebody had decided to listen into their conversation, it would have been impossible, as there were too many people speaking on too many topics. Besides, not everyone was listening to their own conversations, let alone others'.

"What makes you think he made the safe himself?" asked Neal, walking into the classroom.

"Let's just say, I know a guy, who knows a guy…"

"I got it, Roger. No more questions."

Neal's friend wanted to say something more, but the bell rang, postponing the unfinished chat.

As Neal found out during the lesson, Mr. Conner was really an amazing teacher. He did everything for his students to understand "the beauty of science", as he put it. Neal was sure that if needed, Mr. Conner would even stand on his head to explain the material. Despite that Neal had truly started to adore the teacher, soon enough his thoughts traveled to the back of the room, where Roger said the safe was located.

"Psst, Neal!" whispered Roger, noticing Neal's mental absence. "Don't tell me you're thinking about that gorgeous brunette, cause that girl is totally mine. Got it, Caffrey?"

"Got it, Lankford."

"There won't be enough time for girls anyway. With the upcoming test and such."

"Test?" Neal turned around to fully look at Roger, getting a reprimand from the teacher. That made Neal focused for the whole six minutes before he resumed his conversation with Roger.

"I knew it! You were thinking about that girl!" whispered the fair-haired boy in reply. "There will be a chemistry test next week. Get your head in the game, Neal!"

Soon enough the lesson was over and Neal was walking down the hall with Roger, who was still complaining about the unfairness of giving a test at the beginning of a school year.

* * *

Elizabeth was right and time did fly pretty fast. The school day was over, but Neal wasn't ready to leave just yet. The teenager carefully opened the door of an empty classroom and stepped in, all the while looking around, in case Mr. Conner was somewhere near. Although Neal was sure that there was no one else in the room, as he saw with his own eyes the teacher leaving, he was still cautious.

The young con had a chance to examine the classroom and see all the interesting stuff he failed to notice the first time he had been there. In addition to the tables, cluttered up with books, boxes, bottles with something gurgling inside, flasks and different models of things Neal didn't even know about, there were a lot of lockers, covered with charts and diagrams. On the walls, as well as on the desks, there were posters about safety regulations and other rules, which were ignored by all the students far too often for Mr. Conner's liking.

Coming closer to the built-in safe, which had quite an impressive size and looked like a gargoyle, protecting the temple of science, Neal held his breath. The safe wasn't hidden; on the contrary, it stood out and drew attention of every passerby. Glancing across the room once again, Neal made the final step that separated him from the object of interest. Under the careful and exactly measured movements the lock clicked pleasantly in less than a minute. The operation was successful! Neal smiled proudly and successfully ignoring yet another poster, which invoked to put on a protective mask, opened the door of the safe, getting an unexpected and far from pleasant surprise.

"Welcome to our school, Mr. Caffrey."

* * *

Neal was sitting at the steps, trying to feel the fresh air, which was next to impossible, considering… well, considering his current state. The first day at school and he was already in trouble. Lucky for him, Mr. Conner decided that involving the principal was completely unnecessary, but letting Neal off the hook without even calling his parents was completely out of question. Lucky him indeed! Richard said he would come and that is why Neal was waiting for an ocean-blue car to appear.

A small group of girls in cheerleader's uniforms went out of the building. As soon as they caught the sight of the teenager, sitting at the steps, they started giggling. One of the girls went as far as "confessing" to Neal that she found his face simply adorable. The boy glared at the girls, who quickly vanished, as shadows on a cloudy day. Neal stood up angrily and was about to go back into the classroom, when he heard a car being pulled up on a half-empty parking lot. Finally! Richard surely took his time…

Neal turned just in time to see a clearly annoyed driver, shutting the door of the car. Only it wasn't the vehicle Neal expected to see and…

The teenager didn't have any time to comprehend what was happening, as a furious bear, who was woken from hibernation, was getting closer. And that "bear" was no one else but Special Agent in Charge Peter Burke.

Peter was still not fully recovered, because only two weeks passed from the day he was wounded. But he was strong, both mentally and physically, and doctors assured he would be as good as new in no time. The agent had lost a lot of blood, although he was still not convinced that it was only because of the injury. A certain youngster, who had, by the way, been placed in the hospital room next door, as Peter found out minutes after he opened his eyes; that youngster did everything so that Peter wouldn't suffer from any type of blood dregs. No, Neal made sure Peter's blood was circulating!

Even from the distance Peter could see how Neal made a few steps back after seeing the fuming agent approach. The agent made a few deep breaths to calm down. The reason Neal lost consciousness and collapsed that day at the hospital was too much stress along with exhaustion. Peter definitely didn't need the repeat of that. He needed to be calm to deal with the issue at hand.

Peter was calm and determined until he saw Neal's face covered with bright pink substance. The agent started laughing, stopping a few steps away from his wayward charge. Now that he had a better view, Peter saw that the teenager's face wasn't all in paint, which made it even worth and Neal looked like a shabby wall in an old hospital. Moreover, the pink disaster was all over Neal's neck and hands. It even somehow got on his shirt. But was exhilarated Peter the most was the fact that Neal's ears were now the same colour as his face.

Neal instantly started pouting, offended by Peter's reaction. But that only brought another wave of laughter from the agent. A few embarrassing moments for Neal, but the funniest seconds for Peter, Richard came over. The eldest Burke was about to ask what was going on, but seeing Neal, the question died on his lips and he joined his son in a laughing fit.

"H-how?" all that Peter managed to squeeze from himself, still laughing hysterically, holding onto his stomach.

"I opened the safe and something flew out." mumbled Neal in reply, sitting back on the stairs. "What are you even doing here, Peter? It supposed to be your first official day back at work. Besides, I called Richard."

"My 'baby' … broke down." said Richard trying to stop laughing. "Had to call Pete… Oh, son, you look like a drunken flamingo!"

"That's where you're wrong, dad." Peter finally got some control over his emotions. "He looks like a hungover flamingo!"

"Ha! Ha! Very funny, Peter!" grumbled Neal and standing up went into the building with two laughing Burkes in tow. Peter was trying to apologize, but Richard didn't even make a parody of an attempt to calm down.

By the time they finally reached the classroom, both Burkes looked like nothing had happened, all the while trying to avoid looking directly at Neal. Peter seemed to be in his usual business-like, no-nonsense mood, which Neal thought was more "Peter-like". The teenager usually enjoyed when Peter was showing his emotions and let himself laugh freely. But not this time.

Mr. Conner was waiting for them and as soon as everyone was sitting, the adults began talking, while the subject of their conversation kept staring at the window, not even pretending to listen. Neal was brought back to earth when Peter spoke up.

"It won't happen again, Mr. Conner. I'll make sure of it."

There was something new in Peter's voice. It was authoritative as always, but it wasn't the boss' authority, but more like a… parent's authority. As if Peter could read Neal's thoughts and decided to make a more lasting impression, the agent sent a meaningful look in Neal's direction.

"Neal? Do you want to say anything?"

No doubt now. The "Dad" voice.

"Umm… yes. Mr. Conner, can I have a dissolvent now?" asked Neal smiling, but catching Peter's eyes, added quickly. "And I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

"It's OK, Neal. I accept your apology but next time read the instructions." winked the dark-skinned man. "As to the dissolvent… Unfortunately, I don't have any, but you'll be able to find it easily in any store. I'll write the name…"

No later than five minutes, Neal was walking to the car, while Peter and Richard were walking behind, quietly talking. The young forger was keen on getting away from school as fast as possible. He made a move to open the door of the Taurus but Peter's voice stopped him.

"Not so fast, buddy. I'm afraid you'll be sitting in the back today."

"It's a cruel punishment, Peter." retorted Neal.

"Speaking of punishments, you're grounded for the rest of the week. But riding in the back has nothing to do with it. It's that… Let's just say I need to focus on the road." replied Peter, trying to hide the laughter, which was threatening to return any second since the agent looked at the boy's face.

"Maybe I should lay face down, so you won't be distracted?"

"You're full of great ideas today, I see…" started saying Peter in reply to Neal's biting comment, but was interrupted by Richard, who came closer.

"Tell me, was it really because of the answers to the test?"

Richard was calm and confident. He didn't raise his voice; in fact he was speaking a bit quieter than usual. The eldest Burke was patiently waiting for an answer, leaving his son to watch the scene with respect and amazement. Yes, Peter still had a lot to learn.

"No… The code on the safe looked so interesting and… um, I've been told no one had ever managed to open it, so I kinda decided to try."

For Neal this kind of interrogation was new. He usually had to deal with Peter's lack of time and impatience. But Richard showed that he had plenty of time for a serious conversation. What in the world had happened to a loud and funny Burke?!

"Hmm…" was all that Richard said and opening the door, got into the car.

For a few minutes everybody was quiet, but soon Peter broke the silence, stopping the car at the traffic light.

"Neal, who told you about the safe?"

"A friend of mine, but it doesn't matter. I would have noticed it anyway. You saw it, it's huge!"

"By the way, one of your friends asked to tell you he's waiting for you." said Peter, deciding to drop the case and talk on a more interesting topic.

"Who?" Neal was genuinely surprised. None of his friends actually knew Peter in person, except for Mozzie. But the short guy usually just came, making himself at home.

"Hughes. He smiles like a hyena and rubs his hands, so I guess he's eager to see you. We can even go now…"

"No! No, Peter, please! I can't go, not like this! Besides, I haven't done everything yet and if he finds out…" started the teenager.

"Oh, he already knows. Said that the dust bunnies in the storage room will be waiting for you and you're welcome to get acquainted with them any time you like." continued the agent. "Serves you right, if you ask me. That's what you get for running away from Hughes."

"But you were about to arrest Adler! I had to be there!" argued Neal.

"Pete, stop torturing the poor boy." said Richard, making Neal's head go in circles. Who was the good and who was the bad cop here?

Not long after that, Peter was parking the car I front of their Brooklyn house. At the same time, but from the other direction, another car appeared.

Elizabeth was planning to go shopping with Richard, but as both Burkes left, Mozzie was more than happy to accompany her. The woman went out of the car and before she could understand what was going on, two big blue eyes on a pink face were getting closer. In a blink of an eye that face was buried in her shoulder and Neal's voice was complaining about his horrible day and how it couldn't be any worth.

"You'll tell me everything in a minute, sweetie. Let's go inside." replied El, stunned by the kid's appearance and lowering her voice added. "The neighbours are watching."

Mozzie was the only one truly happy to see his friend in such condition. He didn't waste any time and he knew who was "the boss", went straight to Peter.

"Suit, I'm happy to announce that I have a solution to your colourful problem."

The agent looked tiredly at Mozzie and taking a beer from the fridge, decided to ignore him.

"I've been working on it for some time and I'm sure it'll work." pursued the short guy, following Peter to the living room.

"What is it, Mozzie?" finally asked Peter, not even looking at his collocutor.

"A hand-made dissolvent." answered Mozzie. When Peter turned around and looked at him doubtfully, the conman added. "Made with natural ingredients and love."

"Will it return Neal's skin colour to normal?"

"Yes."

"And you just happened to have it with you?"

"You never know what you might need."

"Fine." Peter didn't have any strength to argue. "And Mozzie…"

"Everything will be fine, Suit. Don't worry. Worrying is suffering in advance."

With that Mozzie joined Elizabeth, who was trying to get a full story from Neal. And Peter went outside and let himself get a few minutes of peace.

The sound of footsteps made the agent turn around. Upon seeing his father, Peter relaxed once again.

"The 'baby' is all good and ready to go." announced Richard, standing next to his son. "And so am I."

"Are you leaving already, Dad?"

"Yeah, I've been here long enough. And you know your mother. She can't live without me…"

"And you can't live without her." concluded Peter, chuckling.

"Can't deny the truth. Peter, don't be too hard on Neal. He's been through a lot these weeks. Trust me, I've see all of this. That boy of yours is truly a good kid. Now you need to become a good father to him." said the eldest Burke, looking his son in the eyes.

"I'm trying, Dad."

"Does he know that?"

Silence followed. Peter sighed and Richard smiled.

"Patience and kindness, Peter. It's all both of you need."

"And discipline." mumbled the agent, looking somewhere in the distance.

"What are you talking about? You're incorrigible."

Saying that, Richard went back into the house to say his goodbyes.

* * *

Richard left and El was talking with Peter, leaving Neal with his friend, who was in the process of taking out small bottles with a muddy liquid.

"Moz, are you sure about that?"

"Absolutely. I made it when I was helping Adler to take off the layers of paint. And you know the result: no harm was done to the canvas." reassured Mozzie, beginning to rub Neal's arms with the dissolvent.

"Have you tested on something other than canvas?" Neal trusted Mozzie but his 'scientific inventions' could be dangerous.

"I didn't have a chance… Stop complaining and be grateful that you're the first person to experience the importance of my discovery." replied Mozzie and continued putting the dissolvent on Neal's face. It seemed to work and with every passing second the teenager's face was getting back to its natural state.

"See, I told you. Everything is totally fine. Now, go wash it off, if you don't want to smell like that for the rest of your life."

"What was in there anyway?" asked Neal, standing up and heading to the bathroom.

"You don't want to know, my young friend." came the answer.

A couple of minutes later Neal returned and sat on the couch.

"Mozzie, is it supposed to itch?"

"I don't know. But just in case, try not to scratch…" replied Mozzie, all the while packing away all his stuff.

'I feel strange. And everything is swimming…" mumbled Neal, scratching his neck.

At this point Mozzie began to panic. Suit would definitely kill him now.

"It's OK, Neal. You'll be fine. I have good news and bad news. The good news is you're no longer pink. The bad news is that now you look like pulmonaria officinalis."

"What's that?" asked Neal, not really listening to his friend, who was now in a hurry to leave.

"It's a plant. Its leaves are green but they look like they were splashed with white paint…" murmured Mozzie, more to himself and taking his bag looked once again at Neal, who was scratching his face. "Suit! I've done everything I could! I'm leaving and also thoroughly recommend to take good care of Neal!"

With that the short guy made his way to the door.

"Neal, if anything happens, you know which number to call." said Mozzie and then saw Peter entering the living room. "Well, you're in good hands, mon frére. Later!"

Peter didn't understand why Mozzie had left so abruptly. But then he looked at Neal. The teenager was scratching his face and arms violently. And was it just the agent's imagination or Neal looked a bit swollen?

"Neal, buddy, what's wrong? Do you need any help?" asked Peter, trying not to show Neal how scared he was.

"A bucket!" answered the teenager.

Peter rushed to get the requested item. When he came back, Neal looked even worse and Peter couldn't hold back his emotions any longer.

"El! He's purple!"

Elizabeth appeared from the kitchen and gasped. Apparently Neal was wrong and that day was getting worse.

"Honey, don't worry! In your condition it's important to stay calm, El." continued Peter, pacing nervously. Looking at the teenager, who getting more swollen, the agent started shouting. "El, call the ambulance!"

That was completely unnecessary as Elizabeth was already dialing the number.

"Neal, buddy, can you breathe?" asked Peter finally sitting down beside the boy. "Keep calm, OK? The doctors are on their way."

"Pet'r?" Neal's voice was hoarse and he looked awful, but still managed to smile. "Don't forget to breathe yourself."

"How can I breathe when your ears are… Oh, God! El! The ambulance!"

"It will be here in a few minutes, Peter." replied El as calmly as possible. "Neal, don't listen to him!"

* * *

The next day Neal had to stay at home, the fact he really liked. Maybe people will forget about the "pink accident". If not, at least he got a small break.

After a few hours of being stuck in bed, the teenager was getting bored out of his mind. It was just an allergic reaction to whatever it was that Mozzie put into his stinky dissolvent, but Elizabeth, who decided to stay home with Neal, was convinced he should "take it easy". But the young forger had to admit, he liked it when Elizabeth was hovering around him like a mother-hen…

All in all, the day was uneventful. Sooner than Neal could imagine, a light evening wind started blowing, as if gently persuading the sun to retire early for the day.

Neal heard the joyful barking of Satchmo and a few minutes later two voices were talking downstairs. The teenager closed his eyes, burying his head in the soft pillow. Although he wasn't doing anything all day, the boy felt exhausted.

The door opened and Peter looked into the room. The agent tried to speak quietly, but Neal still heard him.

"Hey, Neal, may I come in?"

Neal sighed dramatically and slightly nodded, while Peter sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Oh, Peter…" moaned Neal like he was in extreme pain.

Peter rolled his eyes at that display but decided to join.

"If there is anything I can do for you, just ask.

"Peter…" Neal's voice was "weak" and Peter had to admit that the boy was a good actor. "Come closer… a little bit closer…"

The older man's ear was almost touching Neal's face now.

"I don't know if I… It's so hard to say this… Peter, promise me." continued Neal, closing his eyes in a dramatic way from time to time. "Promise you'll forgive him."

"Whom?"

"Moz…" Neal whispered that and closed his eyes completely. For a few minutes they stayed like this, but soon Neal opened one eye and looked at Peter, who kept silent. "Come on, Peter!" said the teenager in his usual tone. "You were supposed to grant the dying man's wish."

"If it wasn't for Mozzie, the 'dying man' wouldn't be dying." exclaimed Peter.

"Mozzie isn't the only one responsible. He wouldn't have to use the dissolvent if I hadn't broken into the safe. And I wouldn't have done that, if you hadn't made me go to school in the first place."

"So you blame me for all of this?" asked the agent, raising his eyebrows.

"Yep. It's entirely your fault." smiled Neal.

"Fine. Mozzie is forgiven. But he is not allowed to touch you, feed you or be around you within a couple of meters."

"That's not very forgiving."

"It is too much forgiveness." stated Peter, standing up. "He's lucky I'm so generous."

Awkward silence fell for a couple of minutes.

"And now without all that drama, Neal, how are you feeling? Is there anything…" started Peter, but didn't get a chance to finish as Neal hopped off the bed and stood beside the agent.

"I'm fine, really. But could we, you know… talk?" asked the young con, full of determination.

The older man looked at his charge and simply nodded, not sure what to say. Kids and teenagers were still a thing he couldn't figure out. Peter made a move to sit but once again Neal showed him he had other plans.

"Let's go outside, to the backyard. If you don't mind, of course."

"I don't see why not."

Saying that Peter put his arm awkwardly around Neal's shoulders and they went outside. Sitting down on the bench, Neal looked at the old oak, which he was painting the other day. Now the tree's leaves were not only green, but red, orange, yellow and brown. Soon that beauty would be gone, but for now it looked like the sun had decided to lend one of its rays to make the tree bright and colourful. The nature will take off its majestic robe, just like the bride puts away her dress after the wedding, and penetrating winds will bring cold rains. Long and boring weekdays will follow, until joy and happiness will be restored by the first snow.

Neal didn't want to tell Peter, but he found it much easier to talk here. It was their place. The teenager glanced at the agent and saw that the older man felt the same. It was written all over his face, and even his posture seemed to be more relaxed.

Peter noticed that Neal was flying in the clouds and doubted whether to say anything or not.

"You sure did scare me yesterday." finally said the agent. "Even El reacted better than me… I think she's cooking something special for you. I wanted to help her…"

"It's better if you don't. No offence, Peter." smiled Neal.

"None taken."

"Peter, I'm sorry." said the teenager, finishing their meaningless conversation and getting straight to the point. "I'm truly sorry for what happened. I think I've said it to everyone but you…"

"Neal it wasn't your fault. Allergy is not a thing you can control."

"You know I'm not talking about that." Neal was looking Peter in the eyes. "I still can't let go what happened to you two weeks ago. It was my fault."

"Neal…"

"Peter, please, let me say what I want to say. I am aware that I wasn't the one who attacked you. I know that you don't blame me for what happened. But I still feel guilty… and somehow responsible for all of this mess. I acted childishly and foolishly. I shouldn't have run off, but what happened at the office…" Neal saw a pained expression on Peter's face and continued so that the agent wouldn't have a chance to say anything. "It brought some unpleasant memories, and I acted on impulse. I'm sorry. Trust me, Peter, those are not just empty words."

Peter studied Neal for a few moments. The boy lowered his eyes the second he stopped talking and now he was staring in front of him, but Peter doubted if he saw anything.

"Neal, look at me." when the young con looked up Peter spoke up again. "First of all, I'm glad that you decided to talk. This is a mature thing to do when you have problems, and it proves that I wasn't wrong about you from the very beginning. Your heart is in the right place and that brilliant brain of yours is capable of making the right decisions. It's also capable of brining you into the world of trouble, but we'll work on that. Neal, even if you did act foolishly, I forgive you, El forgives you, we all forgive you."

At this moment Neal looked away from Peter, but the agent hadn't finished and catching Neal's chin, he made him look up again.

"I blamed myself too for what happened to you with Adler. I could have held him or…"

"It wasn't your fault Peter! It was just a concourse of circumstances!" exclaimed Neal, not believing his own ears. How could Peter be responsible for that?!

"Exactly. And you know what? I forgave myself. And you should forgive yourself, because our situations are not that different."

Neal had to say, that made sense. It wasn't like he ordered those robbers to attack Peter.

"We need to put the past behind us. We both have certainly our lessons. Now it's time to forgive and forget." said Peter.

"I forgive you for everything you've done, Peter. And I'm sorry for everything I've done." replied Neal sincerely.

"I forgive you. And I'm also sorry." answered the agent, not looking for other words, as those were just what they both needed to hear.

For a couple of minutes they were sitting in silence. Not because they didn't know what to say, but because they didn't need to.

"It's so beautiful." said Neal finally breaking the silence, at the same time not taking his eyes away from the sun, which was now much closer to the horizon.

"It is." agreed Peter, looking in the same direction.

They watched as the sun was lazily hiding behind a small cloud, which looked like a fluffy bunny. Neal still wanted to say so many things and Peter still had a lot on his mind, but all of that could wait. They spent too much time hurrying. Now they both needed some tranquility…

Peter was about to continue their talk, when Elizabeth called him, asking to speak with the visitor. Peter sighed and looked at Neal, who nodded, but stayed otherwise still. Neal decided to stay outside just a little longer. At least a part of his worries was gone and it felt like a second breath opened. The wind started blowing stronger and at last Neal went into the house. Walking into the living room, he was surprised to see Mozzie, who was telling something to Peter. The agent looked concerned and when Neal got closer, he understood why, as he heard Mozzie's words.

"Adler is back in New York."

 


	2. The unfinished story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: First of all, sorry for such a long wait. The next chapter should take much less time to post! Exams weren't just a walk in the park for me this year, but thankfully it's all done and over with now. Thank you for understanding.
> 
> And as usual I want to thank each and every one who is reading! And thank you guys for your fantastic reviews! Keep them coming!

The waves collided with the shore, taking thousands of grains of sand and leaving a couple of seashells in return, and only then slowly crawled away. The rays of the rising sun coloured the surface of the ocean, turning the water from silky-blue to gentle pink. The rustling of the leaves and sounds of the bare feet walking on the slightly wet sand were the only things to be heard. But there was no one to listen, except for the birds, who are the early risers no matter on which side of the earth they are.

Adler stopped walking, but that motion hadn't stopped all the thoughts that were whirling in his mind. Two weeks had passed since they left New York, which meant he had had plenty of time to think everything over and to make a new plan. Only it hadn't been enough. Too many details had been left out; too many mistakes had been made…

* * *

Johnny handed him the fan. After months of pointless attempts to get it, he was finally holding it! Carefully opening the case, Vincent retrieved the fan. A delicate carved handle made of fine wood complemented the scarlet-red fabric, which wasn't by any means worn out. A few trinkets made an antiquity not only heavier, but more expensive and valuable. Although Adler knew there was no time to admire this particular piece of art, he simply couldn't help it.

A couple of lost seconds here and there and no one noticed how the FBI agents stormed into the office. There was no chance to get a closer look at the fan now… At least Vincent managed to get one of the trinkets, while making a scene out of putting the fan back into its case.

While making his way to the hall of the Woolworth Building accompanied by a dozen of FBI agents, Adler's only concern was how to pass the trinket to one of his men, Kane, who was posing as a security guard. The chance presented itself when Adler caught a sight of Neal. Burke saw his puppy too, but Vincent was faster. He grabbed the teenager by his shirt collar with one hand, all the while sliding the trinket across the floor for Kane to get it. He didn't have any intention to kill the boy, but it served the annoying little pimp well to be scared. Vincent realized just how risky his actions were, when Burke pulled the trigger…

Shaking himself out of the unpleasant memory, Adler put his hands into the pockets of his well-ironed pants. Big city or a tropical island he always had to look, and be, perfect. The man took out the only thing which gave him hope that the game was not over – an object in a shape of an egg. The gems of the same trinket he stole in front of the feds were now sparkling in the sun.

Taking the object into both of his hands, Adler opened it. Inside there was a tiny piece of old yellow paper. Vincent looked closely at the paper and sighed. He had only one key to the puzzle. The key, which was another mystery itself.

Adler started walking in the direction of his house, and turning around to steal one more glance at the calming water of the ocean, made up his mind on what to do next. Those two weeks of vacation were great, but it was time to get back to work.

* * *

Neal walked back into the living room and was surprised to see Mozzie, who was telling something to Peter. The agent looked concerned and when Neal got closer, he understood why, as he heard Mozzie's words.

"Adler is back in New York."

"What?!"

Both Mozzie and Peter turned around to see Neal, whose face was pale. His friend rushed to him, but the teenager smiled and pretended to be fine.

"Neal, why won't you go…" started Peter.

"No. I want to know what's going on. It's not just curiosity talking, Peter." Determination in the boy's eyes only confirmed the older man's worries. The young con wasn't going to sit this one out.

"Neal, I'm not sure you are ready to talk about Adler after what happened." tried the agent once again. His words didn't sound convincing even to himself. Maybe Neal was young, but he could stand up to himself. And he definitely wasn't the one to be scared easily. But if there was even a remote possibility of his boy being in danger, Peter was ready to put their fragile relationship on the line by saying 'no'.

This moment Neal sat beside the agent, showing him that he had no intention to go anywhere. Mozzie glanced at Peter, asking silently for permission to start talking.

Thinking about the whole situation once again, Peter decided that it would be better if Neal knew what was going on. That way Peter would be able to keep an eye on him. Closing eyes and rubbing his forehead, the agent nodded, allowing Mozzie to explain.

Seeing that Peter wasn't in the best of his moods, Mozzie decided not to annoy the agent and went on without any unnecessary entries.

"While you were interrogating Adler that day, Anthony and I were examining the fan."

"I still haven't gotten the report…" grumbled Peter.

"Don't rush things, Suit. Anything worth having is worth waiting for." replied the short guy, watching both Peter and Neal roll their eyes. "The analysis proved the fan to be real. But that is not what I tried to tell you when… when you and Neal were, you know, sorting out your relationship. On both of the paintings there were drawn two trinkets."

"Those trinkets were on the real fan as well. So what?" asked the agent.

"We also found a piece of a golden chain in the fan's case. Looks like somebody broke it by pulling with great force. I assume that there was a third trinket." said Mozzie.

"You think Adler has it?" asked Neal.

"I can't say anything for sure, but it's possible."

"It's also possible that there wasn't any third trinket at all.' added Peter. "It looks like you're onto something, Mozzie. But we can't jump to conclusions. Unless we find some real evidence, there is nothing I can do."

"Adler is a real scumbag, isn't that evidence enough?! And the fact that he returned…"

"Moz, let's trust Peter with this." interrupted Neal. "So, what's our next move?"

"I'm gonna look into this tomorrow morning. Mozzie, you're free to join me." replied Peter and turning to Neal, added. "And you're going to school. We'll keep you updated, don't worry."

"Can't I go with you instead?"

"Sure thing, buddy. Hughes will be more than happy to see you."

"On second thoughts, school sounds like a lot of fun. Oh, and I think El is calling me." answered Neal and practically ran into the kitchen.

"Stay for dinner, Mozzie." offered Peter, seeing that the other man was about to leave.

"Thanks, but no thanks. I have things to do." came the reply. Even though Mozzie declined the offer, something warm spread through his chest upon hearing those words. He shook his head, as if to get rid of the strange feeling and left the house.

* * *

The next day after school finished, Neal was about to head home, when he saw Peter's car. The agent himself was standing beside the vehicle.

"Hey, Peter! What are you doing here?"

"Glad to see you too, Neal. Thought you might need a ride."

The teenager looked sceptically at the older man and got into the car. Peter looked excited and focused at the same time, something that Neal got used to seeing. That meant Peter was onto something.

"So, how was school?"

"As boring as ever. Come on, Peter. I know you haven't got here just to ask me about school. Did you find out anything?" asked the young con, catching the excitement from the agent.

"Nope, but we are about to." stated Peter.

Only at that moment Neal realised that they weren't going home or to the Bureau. The young man wanted to ask where they were heading but he didn't dare break the mysterious atmosphere, which filled the Taurus. Soon enough the car stopped in front of a big mansion. Neal had no other option but to follow Peter to the gates, which were opened for them a few minutes later.

A young woman led them through the spacious hall and into the study. Peter seemed not to notice huge windows or a massive staircase, but Neal felt that somehow he travelled back in time. Strangely enough he didn't feel like in a museum, where you can look but you can't touch anything. Even though this house looked more like a picture from a history book, it was still comfortable. Neal lost the track of time and it seemed that in this house there was no such notion.

The owner of the house didn't make his guests wait for long. Just as Peter and Neal sat in front of a mahogany desk, which occupied one third part of the room, the door squeaked, announcing the arrival of Beauchamp.

Whether it was Neal and his excitement and amazement that clouded his vision or Beauchamp's appearance was truly remarkable, no one can tell. Especially not Peter, who was more focused on the facts he was telling and the reason for their visit.

The teenager looked at Beauchamp with pure fascination. It was a man of about 50 years of age with dark messy hair that was only starting to show the silver lining. Although he was in a rather good shape, you couldn't exactly call him slim. Beauchamp's shirt sleeves were rolled up but other than that he looked presentable, to say at least.

"Well," said Beauchamp, after carefully listening to Peter. "This is a very interesting assumption. I can't remember anything right now, but there's a chance that something will come up during the story. The third trinket, you say… Very interesting indeed. Actually, the story I'm about to tell isn't a short one. Please, let us get comfortable. Maybe some tea or coffee?"

After everything and everyone was settled, Beauchamp began.

"So, the fan. By the way, do you know how fans were invented?"

"How?" asked Neal, still not paying any attention to Peter, who clearly didn't want to hear any stories.

"There is a legend that the first hand fan was created by no one but the first woman on Earth – Eve. After the Fall from Grace, Eve noticed that Adam was looking at her closely. Feeling embarrassed Eve picked a leaf and started fanning herself with it. She wasn't doing it because of the heat but because she wanted to show her indifference. This story first appeared in Europe in Middle Ages, when fans started being used for more than just utilitarian purposes. It was an accessory, a distinctive tool for seduction, if you'd like. Take Venice for example. Women there always took fans to the carnivals."

Beauchamp stood up and not stopping the story took one of the books from the table and started looking through it.

"At that time every single thing was made by hand, making it exclusive. Fans were made using different materials: from feathers to ivory. Ah, here it is…" The man got back to his seat, setting the book in front of his visitors.

Peter glanced at his watch a couple of times, which hadn't escaped Beauchamp's eyes.

"Are you in a hurry, Agent Burke?"

"No, but I would appreciate you getting closer to the point." replied Peter honestly, and catching a reproachful look from Neal, who was enjoying the story without a doubt, quickly added. "Please, continue."

"You'll understand why I'm telling all of this very soon, I assure you. Besides, this young man here seems to be very interested." answered Beauchamp and picking up the book went on.

"This is Queen Elizabeth the First. She's considered to be one of the greatest monarchs of England. In 1600 she granted permission for the foundation of the first East India Company. After that goods from the East, including fans, were much easier to obtain. On this portrait you can see her holding a fan. The handle was made of gold and in a shape of a bear. At the inner side there was a small mirror. But pay attention to the fact, that this portrait was painted almost fifty years before the foundation of the East India Company. At that time to get such thing as a fan was a tricky thing."

Beauchamp closed the book and putting it aside continued.

"Approximately at that same time but only in France, the fan, which is now collecting dust somewhere in the FBI, appeared in our family. You already know that my ancestors were noblemen. My many times great-grandmother, Béatrice Beauchamp, was known not only for her title, but also for her beauty... Oh, tea is served. Let's go to the living room, shall we?"

Peter and Neal followed Beauchamp into the spacious room, where on one of the walls there was a portrait of a woman in a red dress. Her golden hair, that accentuated the paleness of her skin, was tied up in a beautiful hairdo.

"Is that Béatrice?" asked Peter, looking closely at the painting.

"Yes." came a simple reply from Beauchamp, who was standing a few steps behind the agent. "She had a model beauty of that time."

"My grandfather used to tell me a family legend when I was little. Béatrice was in love with a young man, Gerard. He had everything a young lady could have wanted: stunning looks, a clever head on his shoulders and lots of charm. There was only one 'but'. He wasn't a nobleman; neither did he have any wealth. He couldn't marry her. So Gerard decided to leave, promising that he would return when he could provide a good life for his beloved. In her turn, Béatrice vowed to wait for him, knowing that her hand was promised to another man. Time passed, and soon Béatrice was married to Baron Beauchamp, who was a close ally of King Henry II. The King himself was charmed by the baron's young wife and as a sign of his affection he gave her the fan. You already can imagine what a valuable gift it was at that time."

Neal was sitting opposite the portrait. Despite a small smile on her face, Neal thought that Béatrice's astonishing blue eyes hid sadness over her long-lost lover. Beauchamp's voice was getting farther and farther, until it finally remained only as a background sound for the story, which was happening right in front of Neal's eyes.

"Béatrice seemed happy enough with her life. Gerard seemed to be forgotten. Until one day…"

* * *

_One step forward, one step back… One step forward, reverence…_

_Music, endless dancing and unbearable heat were setting her head in a whirl. A tight corset was digging into her sensitive skin and heavy loops of the underskirt were making it difficult to move. If only she could make it to the garden without anyone noticing…_

_A man in a dark green coat stepped in front of Béatrice, lowering his head._

_"Madame."_

_"Monsieur." replied the woman, curtseying, before allowing him to take her hand._

_Light, easy steps and a natural smile didn't give away any discomfort she was feeling. Her sky-blue dress, embroidered in silver, along with a fancy mask, that covered half of the face, were twinkling under the light of a thousand candles in the chandeliers._

_Her partner seemed to be dancing in the same way as others, yet somehow he was different. Same moves were made in a completely different manner, but that didn't bother her. Those moves and the way he was holding her were so familiar, yet so strange; so comforting, yet so frightening. Not a word was spoken but Béatrice was sure she would recognize the man behind the mask…_

_The man easily took Béatrice into his arms and lifted from the ground. How beautiful she was… Even after all these years she was in every sense of the word perfect. But she was so pale. Never mind that, she was still amazing. Years made her even better. And now he was holding her once again, he felt her touch and saw her smile._

_Music stopped, but the beating of the heart had only started playing a long forgotten melody. Excitement rushed through the blood and cheeks turned crimson red. The stranger lowered his head once again, seconds before a group dance carried them both away._

_Step, step, clap, turn…_

_Béatrice curtseyed to yet another gentleman, while her mind was focused on a mysterious stranger. She lost him from her sight and now was feverously looking for him._

_"Madame."_

_Béatrice spun around to see the man she was looking for. She smiled, hearing the musicians started playing once more, and felt being led to the dance floor. Step by step the couple was heading closer to the door, which led to the garden. Béatrice didn't resist. Something in that man made her trust him._

_Finally the doors were opened and a wave of fresh air hit her face. Light spring wind cooled hot skin and leveled breathing. Candles were replaced by a gentle light from the moon. Music, that possessed everything not a mere second ago, seemed like a distant dream now._

_The man took off his mask. Béatrice covered her mouth with her hand, but a loud gasp still fell from the lips. The man rushed to her side and caught the lady, who went limp in his hands._

_"Gerard…"_

_"You still remember the name of the man who has always loved you, ma chère."_

_"How could I forget?" replied Béatrice. Her voice was weak, when she took off her own mask, allowing her former lover to have a look at her face._

_"Béatrice, I want you to know that I kept my promise. Say one word and we will be far from here. Just like we've always wanted: you and me - the rulers of the world! No boarders, no rules, just us." said Gerard, kissing Béatrice's hand._

_The woman shook her head, tears sparkled in her eyes, but she didn't take away her hand._

_"I can't, Gerard. I'm married, I have a family. If you had asked me that when you were leaving, I would have said yes. But not now. I'm sorry."_

_Béatrice turned around and made a move to walk back to the ballroom. Gerard caught her wrist, not letting her go._

_"Tomorrow night I'm leaving France forever. The only reason I had to return was you. I understand everything, but give me one last chance to see you." Gerard pulled the woman closer and the rest of his words were said in a whisper._

_"One last meeting. It's all I ask, Béatrice. If our feelings meant something to you, meet me at our place tomorrow at midnight."_

_With that he abruptly turned and started marching through the garden. Béatrice held the urge to call after him and after Gerard was completely out of sight, returned to the ballroom, looking as if nothing happened. Only a few people noticed that she was more pale than usual…_

* * *

Neal felt how Peter's elbow connected painfully with his ribs. The teenager glared at the agent, who silently pointed to Beauchamp and reprimanded Neal to listen attentively. The young con rubbed his side, listening now only to Beauchamp's voice and not imagining the whole scene.

"They met each other that night, but not for long. Gerard was arrested for piracy and condemned to death by hanging. Béatrice was begging her husband to arrange a meeting with Gerard. She needed to see him one last time. At first the Baron didn't want to help, but soon he gave in to his wife's pleadings. He loved her too much and decided that if he wanted this story to be finally forgotten, he needed to let his wife see that pathetic pirate. Baron told Béatrice that he was doing it only because of his love for her. Just before the sunrise, when Gerard was supposed to be hanged, Béatrice was allowed to see him. The amount of tears that were shed that fateful day could not be described. When the guards were coming for the poor man, he managed to tell his beloved about the hidden treasures. The story says that he even passed her the map. But no great treasures could make it any easier for Béatrice to see the man she loved to be hanged. Life went on, but for Béatrice the world stopped spinning the second Gerard had drawn his last breath. Béatrice was getting weaker and weaker. Not long after that she took the secret of what really happened to her grave." concluded Beauchamp, and kept silent for a couple of seconds before adding some more information.

"Some people believed it was Baron Beauchamp, Béatrice's husband, who saw them together at the ball and choking from jealousy decided to get rid of his opponent. But the question of that being true or not will remain unanswered."

For a few minutes there was silence, as everybody was thinking about their own things. And Neal found himself starring at the portrait again.

"What an unusual necklace she has…" murmured the teenager, looking at the egg-shaped object.

"That, young man, is not a necklace. That's a very interesting thing…" answered Beauchamp. "It's a flea-fur or zibeline. It was used to catch fleas. In the 16th century France hygiene was not a popular word. People used to take a bath once or twice a year, so fleas and other insects were often found in hair."

Neal visibly cringed at that pronouncement, while the owner of the house went on.

"I may assume that it's a good hiding place. A zibeline can be opened and its unique shape allows some space to put something in there. Of course it's just an assumption, but if I were you I would be looking for something like this."

Peter nodded and glanced at his watch. Beauchamp's story carried him away and he totally forgot about the existence of time.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Beauchamp. We'll check out your theory and be in touch."

"My pleasure, Agent Burke." replied Beauchamp smiling and turned to Neal. "Here is my card. If you ever feel like listening to another story or if you're interested in ancient manuscripts, don't hesitate to give me a call."

Neal didn't want to leave, but soon Peter's Taurus was on its way to the Bureau. The teenager was still in his dreamy condition, when he heard Peter's voice.

"That's what happens to people who don't want to acknowledge the fact that their love won't bring them any good."

"Yeah… I see what you mean, Peter. Their tragic, yet beautiful story of love continues to live and their descendants carry the memory in their hearts."

"No, Neal. They go to prison and get hanged. There is no happily ever after in such stories. Love should bring you stability, not trouble."

"Whatever you say, Peter…" murmured Neal, imagining that maybe life gave Béatrice and Gerard another chance and their story will find a happy ending. Only this time their names are Kate and Neal…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Yes, Kate again… So what do you think? Will Neal get the happy ending he wants so much? Although it's still early to make any predictions, I want to know what you think.


	3. A journey of a thousand miles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Hope you'll enjoy this chapter! Comments and reviews are loved!

* * *

"Arms, legs, heads are where they're supposed to be." announced the dark-haired doctor.

Peter opened his mouth to ask about the 'heads', but the woman continued, not taking her eyes off the papers she was signing. For some strange reason, the agent found it difficult to communicate with this gloomy woman. Her curt manner and abrupt movements weren't helping the fact that she knew a lot more than Peter did, at least in this particular sphere. That meant Peter wasn't in control of the situation, which made the man feel uncomfortable to say at least.

"Is there anything specific I should do?" asked Elizabeth, ignoring her husband's fastened, and loud, breathing.

The doctor went on with explanations and recommendations. Peter used that time to relax a little and everything seemed to be finally getting normal, when…

"No need to worry, Mrs. Burke. As I said, the babies…"

"Ah, excuse me?"

The doctor put down her pen and looked at the agent, who dared to interrupt her.

"What?!" asked the woman sharply, if not rudely.

"You keep saying 'babies'." bluntly replied Peter. At that moment he felt like a child asking stupid questions. His face must have been showing the distress he was feeling, because the woman's voice seemed to get softer.

"Yes." continued the doctor, burying her head in the papers again. "The triplets are…"

"Tri… triplets? You mean there are three babies?!" Peter's voice trembled and he felt like he had forced half the desert down his throat.

Peter exchanged glances with Elizabeth, who seemed equally as nervous.

"Daddy, if you can't control yourself, I recommend you to wait outside, while we finish here." said the doctor impatiently. "Of course this is not frequent, but I assure you, it's completely normal. With a little more attention and care everything will be fine."

To the rest of the doctor's monologue both Peter and El were listening as if they were under some kind of spell. Elizabeth was trying to pull herself together, while her husband's eyes were darting from one corner to the other. Not every day you are told to expect triplets!

"Hey, Hey! Take a deep breath!"

Subconsciously the agent understood that those words were addressed to him and obeyed.

"That's it… Breathe… One more deep breath…" the doctor repeated over and over. "I'll prescribe you both some sedatives… As well as breathing techniques for your husband." added the woman, eyeing Peter.

Soon after that the Burkes were on their way home.

Neal was sitting at the table in the living room, surfing the Internet, when he heard the front door being unlocked. Hurriedly, he closed the laptop and opened his book.

"Hey, guys." smiled the teenager, watching as Peter went straight into the kitchen and Elizabeth took place beside Neal.

Neal glanced between the agent and his wife. The woman was glowing with happiness, while Peter looked… well, he was a bit red. Before Neal could ask anything, Peter started the conversation, returning with a glass of water.

"How's your homework?"

"Almost done. How was the hospital?"

"Informative." replied Peter, handing the glass to El. "I think we need a bigger house."

Before anyone was able to add something, the agent continued.

"Searching for the house will take time. So we'll have to cope with this for a while. For that we need to repair the filter and to paint the ceilings…" said Peter with enthusiasm. "Neal, why you are sitting? Go open the window. The doctor said El needs extra care… Never mind, I'll do it myself."

While Peter was gone, Neal looked questioningly at Elizabeth.

"We're going to have triplets." smiled the woman.

When the teenager noticed a look of worry and concern on her face, he tried to reassure her that everything will be just perfect.

"I'm not worried about the babies, sweetie. At least not as much as I worry about Peter right now." replied Elizabeth, watching as her husband returned with a couple of pillows.

Passing the table with his load a few times and finally getting an advice from his wife to put the pillows on the couch, Peter took his seat opposite Neal. The teenager couldn't help but smile in answer to Peter's own big goofy smile. With every passing second the agent's smile continued to grow, until finally a thought crawled into his mind.

"Hon, why won't you go lay down? And I'll make dinner."

Peter made a move to help Elizabeth to stand up, only to be stopped.

"Honey, I'm pregnant, not sick."

Peter smiled again and disappeared into the kitchen, to get yet another unnecessary glass of water.

Neal looked at Elizabeth one more time. Peter's behaviour was far from being usual.

"Don't worry, sweetie. He'll get over his emotions soon. And Neal?"

"Yeah?"

"I know you can't read upside-down." stated El, standing up and taking away the laptop.

The whole evening went with Peter either aimlessly walking around the house or trying to help Elizabeth in some odd ways. Neal didn't mind until Peter decided he was slacking off. Now the teenager was taking out the garbage. For the third time in an hour. He sighed and made his way back.

"I just need some fresh air, hon." heard Neal, as soon as he entered the house.

The young con looked at Elizabeth with pleading eyes, when he realized she was about to walk Satchmo. El didn't need words to understand what he was asking.

"And I'm taking Neal with me. So I'll be in good hands, Peter."

Before the agent had time to protest all three were walking down the street. Satchmo was playing with the leaves, which covered the whole street as an expensive Persian carpet. Looking at the dog's joy, Neal started purposely stepping on the leaves, so they would make crusting noises under his feet. Except for those sounds, it was quiet. Warm wind was blowing, spreading the calmness of the autumn evening around the block. Dark clouds in contrast with the magenta sky made the sunset look even more magical. The teenager was so engrossed in watching the dragon-shaped cloud trying to 'eat' the sun that he almost fell down.

Coming to his senses, Neal looked at Elizabeth. She was happy and he could see it in every feature of her face and body. It was that quiet and peaceful kind of happiness. Usually we remember the emotions that were only the background to the main event. But from time to time it's good to be level-headed and enjoy the moment itself. And that is exactly what Neal did. Losing himself in a light chat, he felt happiness running through his veins.

They continued walking, not noticing how with every step they were slowing down the pace. Sometimes you need to leave your problems on the shelf and go out for a while. No work, no bad guys, and especially no school…

"By the way, Neal, on which subject you were working so hard when we got back?"

So much for no school. Neal hoped that El wouldn't bring up that incident but unfortunately no such luck.

"French. And I was doing my homework at first, it's just…" the teenager cut himself short and continued walking, keeping his eyes on Satchmo.

"It's just what?" asked Elizabeth when it was evident that Neal wasn't going to talk if not asked a direct question.

"Every time the teacher explains something, I think I understand. The second I'm left alone with the book, I have no idea what to do. Nothing I do is right."

"I think you're giving up too easily. Maybe we should look for another book, where the rules are explained better? Or we can always call Mozzie."

"I don't think another book will help. I guess, learning languages is really not my thing. And Moz is busy these days. I don't want to bother him with some stupid school stuff."

By this time the sun was completely gone and the moon was hidden in the clouds. One by one the street lamps were turning on.

"I'll leave the lecture about the importance of getting good education to Peter, but can I give you a piece of advice?" asked El, turning around to walk back home. "Don't wait until a difficulty turns into a real problem. It's not an easy thing to learn something new and you have to understand that it will take time before you get to see the results. Patience and hard work are the part of the process, Neal."

"Yeah, I know. But when I start thinking about just how much time it will take…"

"Time will pass anyway, sweetheart. It's up for you to decide whether you are going to waste it or spend it wisely. It won't hurt to spend extra twenty minutes on your French, would it?"

After that the conversation drifted to other topics, and Neal was really enjoying himself, when they finally reached the house. Peter was humming a catchy tune, while flipping through the channels. He seemed to be calm enough. Satchmo curled near Peter's legs, while Neal and El took their places on both sides from the agent. Neal took the hold of the remote, while Peter wrapped his hand around El and with the other was ruffling the teenager's hair.

"El!" suddenly cried Peter, right in the middle of the film. "We haven't told our parents yet! I'll go get the phone…"

"Honey, don't you think it would be better to call in the morning. Let them, and us, have a peaceful night."

Peter settled down and the rest of the evening the family spent without any incidents.

The next day Neal was goofing around with his friends before school started. He bumped into Roger and dropped his books. The young con heard whistling when he got down to collect his property from the floor, but didn't pay any attention to that. School was always noisy. Neal lifted his head in time to see two slim tanned legs stopping right in front of him. His eyes travelled higher, registering a short checkered skirt, a tight blouse and finally the laughing eyes.

"Wow, Caffrey! I have just walked into the building and you are already at my feet."

Neal stood up as quickly as his beating heart would let him, feeling a bit dizzy. Whistling and laughing filled the hall but Neal didn't hear anything, while looking at the girl of his dreams. Not that long ago she was only in his thoughts. But now, when she was standing there, surrounded by her annoyingly giggling friends, Neal couldn't think about anything, except for how beautiful she was. Perfect hair, perfect smile…

"Hey, Timmy!" said Kate teasingly, walking away.

Tim narrowed his eyes and kept silent. And Neal? Neal was still looking in front of him.

"And she's far from being pale…"

Roger heard his friend's murmuring and began questioning him.

"What are you talking about, dude? How do you even know Kate?"

"She's… um, a friend of mine." replied Neal.

"Ah, I know what's going on! You like her, don't you? She's a big fish to catch, and judging by your exchange you are not her favorite." continued Roger, trying to catch up with Neal, who was on his way to the classroom. He wanted to escape the embarrassment. He allowed the whole school a glimpse of his true feelings! The young con tried to ignore Roger, but with no success.

"It's more complicated than you think, Roger."

"Then let's make it less complicated. Come on, Neal. Flowers, chocolates and don't forget your smile. Any girl…"

Neal abruptly stopped and turned around, looking Roger in the eyes.

"Kate is not just any girl. You can't just walk up to her and ask her out. Cheesy phrases and cheap bouquets won't work. And the whole 'Romeo' act won't work either."

"How can you know?" challenged Roger.

"Because I tried that. Even the stupid balcony…"

"Well, that makes things easier. There are two kinds of girls, Caffrey: the ones who like good boys, and others, who like bad guys. And since you've tried being a nice guy…" Roger purposely stopped, letting the information to sink in. Getting an understanding smile from Neal and hearing the bell, both followed the crowd into the classroom.

By the end of the school day, the plan was almost ready to be put in action. Neal was walking home, when he heard Tim asking to wait up.

"I heard what you guys are planning to do. That's a bad idea, Neal." said Tim as soon as he was beside the young con.

"Why is that, Prince?"

"Shhh! Guys from school can't know about… well, about _that._ And I'm serious. Kate is not the girl to hook up with."

"That's exactly why you are doing _business_ with her." retorted Neal. "Tim, I don't know what happened, but I get it that you are at swords' points with Kate."

"That has nothing to do with…"

"And I think it does, Tim. What happened, huh? Couldn't divide the profits and now you want to take revenge on her? Tell you what. Not gonna happen!" Neal's voice was rising dangerously.

"Your choice, Caffrey. I warned you." answered Tim calmly, before leaving a highly irritated Neal.

* * *

Elizabeth noticed that Neal was constantly talking on the phone the whole evening. But he told her he was chatting with a friend and eventually she let it go. After all, Neal wasn't a toddler and he could make decisions on his own. They needed to trust the boy. Besides, one agent in the house was enough, decided El, and went to make some coffee for the said agent and a new, although still unofficial, member of his team.

Mozzie found himself coming more often to Suit's house. Usually his visits had something to do with Adler or the fan. But lately Mozzie didn't have any new ideas and was still leading his investigation. Nevertheless, Mozzie had proven himself a great asset to the Bureau and even agreed to help Peter with some of his cases. Mozzie was still Mozzie and that meant he wasn't going to just stop being who he was. But the short guy also enjoyed the idea of relieving the monotony of life by some unusual, in his opinion, methods. Those methods included getting rid of his enemies, or people he didn't like for some reason or another, using the hands of his greatest enemy – the government.

Neal saw that Mozzie and Peter were working on a new case and even afforded his help, but both men ignored it, being engrossed in their discussion. Not that the teenager really wanted to do anything. Neal tried to convince himself that he didn't care, but deep inside he was hurt. With El being pregnant and Peter and Mozzie working together, Neal felt like a proverbial third wheel. At least he had true friends like Roger, who always had time for him. And there also was Kate. Maybe she pretended like she didn't care, but Neal hoped, no, he knew that she still had feelings for him. With the plan he and his friends were working on, the young con was going to win her heart once and for all.

Was Neal right about Kate? Was she the same girl he fell in love with? There is a saying that some people never change. That is exactly what can be said about Kate. A few people like Neal regarded her as a kind young lady, who needed to pull up a façade of a strong and independent person. Others viewed her as a mean and manipulative girl. Who was right? Everybody and no one at the same time. The truth is that Kate was just a spoiled child. No one said 'no' to her. She was used to getting what she wanted no matter whether she truly needed it or not.

So after her spectacular appearance at school, Kate felt alive again. Although going away with her father seemed like a lot of fun at the time, it proved to be the exact opposite. She didn't know anybody there; therefore she had to build her reputation from scratch. Back in New York everything was waiting for her to take control and get back in the game. And Caffrey with his canine loyalty served as a great platform for bringing her popularity up. The best thing about this situation was that Kate didn't even need to do anything. Neal would run after her himself. At first Kate thought about getting rid of him, or at least his stupid affection. Soon enough she realized that a lot of girls at school found Caffrey attractive and guys seemed to get along with him. That's why she decided that it would be not a bad idea to keep him as a part of her entourage.

The next morning, convinced that it was going to be the easiest game to play, Kate was walking towards school like a queen. Passing the school yard, her mood got better as practically everybody greeted her. People, who possessed more luck than others, got a glance or two from Kate, and were melting from happiness. Kate saw Neal in the crowd and walked past him. She didn't need to see his reaction to know that she got his attention.

Kate's cheerful frame of mind was changed a few hours later. There she was, as gorgeous as ever, and Caffrey went past her without even noticing her. The reason for his strange, and not to mention outrageous, behaviour was another girl!

How could he do something like that?! He was supposed to be grateful that he was allowed to breathe the same air as her! Yet here he was, talking to somebody else! Did Caffrey lose all sense of shame?

Kate took a deep breath, reminding herself that she wasn't supposed to care. The girl felt like a volcano had erupted inside of her. Her breathing was uneven and her head was ready to pop like a balloon. Kate wanted to rip that girl's head off. And Neal's head as well! How did he dare embarrass her like that! Something had to be done about this immediately. She needed a solution to this small, but very frustrating, problem and she needed it fast. The first step would be finding out about Caffrey's new acquaintance.

Nobody, not even her closest friends, noticed that something was bothering Kate. To everyone she acted as usual: proud posture, confident walk and a dazzling smile. In fact, Kate was trying to rein in her emotions and concentrate.

At lunch time she acted as usual and was sitting with her friends, when she saw the girl Caffrey took interest in.

"Who's that ginger-haired mouse?" asked Kate. Her voice didn't give away any of her feelings, though.

"That's Sara Elis." replied one of the girls, happy to provide the needed information. "Just another member of the crowd."

Kate looked uninterested and turned the conversation into another direction, all the while thinking about Sara. The volcano inside of her wasn't going to calm down any time soon.

A little later, a short blond girl joined the table. She sat beside Kate and leaned forward. The rest of the girls followed her lead, knowing that the blondie had something to tell.

"You'll never guess what I just heard." started the girl, speaking quickly and quietly. "Remember that guy from yesterday? Caffrey. Well, he likes our Kate!"

"Hardly a revelation, Abby." replied Kate. "Lots of guys like me."

"This one is different. He's working on some kind of super-secret operation to win your heart!" retorted Abby. "Come on, Kate! Aren't you at least a bit excited? He's kinda cute."

Kate smiled. Yep, with Caffrey everything was easy. He brought the solution to her tiny problem himself. That Sara girl was nothing after all. Now she just needed to wait and see what the next day would bring.

* * *

The next day did bring a lot of surprises and not only for Kate.

Peter was standing near his car, enjoying the fresh air. They had just closed a particularly difficult case and Peter used a rare chance of taking an early break. That's why the agent decided to pick up Neal, so they could have lunch together. For the last couple of days he was caught up in work and didn't have enough time for the teenager.

The bell rang. Peter was watching as a crowd of teens left the building. A few minutes passed but Neal still didn't appear. Just as the agent was about to make a call, he noticed a small group crossing the school yard. One of the boys, or was it a girl, reminded him of Bigfoot, wearing lots of chains. As this monster, no, just a misguided child, was coming closer, Peter took a better look at him. An oversized black leather jacket, black T-shirt and tight black jeans were only a small part of this catastrophe. Huge golden chains, although Peter doubted it was real gold, were hanging on the boy's neck and there were also a few of them tied to his jeans. There was even a ring in his nose! Seriously, where were his parents looking when they sent their boy to school?! His Neal would have never…

"Hey, P'ther!"

The agent looked at the person, who addressed him. Familiar blue eyes were looking at Peter from under the thick layer of black eye-shadow.

"Neal." breathed out Peter, still not believing his own eyes. "What… how… Is that a tattoo on your neck?!"

"Relax, P'ther! It'th not a real thatthoo."

"Real or not, get rid of it! Why are talking like that?" everyone could hear the agent now. Gone was the first shock and now Peter was determined to get to the bottom of this. He didn't care that people were looking at them; he just needed to know what in the world was wrong with Neal.

"Don'th shout, P'ther! It's not a real tongue piercing."

"Take that thing out of your mouth immediately! Not real… Is there anything real about your appearance? Have you seen yourself in the mirror, Neal?! And for God's sake, go wash your face!"

The teenager turned around to walk back to school, but Peter, coming to his senses and realizing that it will only make things worse, stopped him.

"Just get in the car already!" barked Agent Burke.

"Fine. No need tho shout." mumbled the young con.

A lot of people saw, and most importantly heard, a heated exchange between Peter and his charge. But no one, except for one person, regarded it as a new opportunity.

Vincent Adler parked his car in the shadow. He went out just in time to see Burke yelling at Caffrey. Adler watched the scene with pure delight. Burke didn't let him work since his return. Either he or his team were always tailing Adler, not allowing him to get new information on the map. Burke deserved to have some trouble with his puppy. Vincent smirked when Peter raised his voice enough for him to hear. The only time Burke wasn't thinking about work was when he was with his family. That's it! Adler found Burke's Achilles's heel. He couldn't believe he hadn't thought about it before.

"Hi, Daddy!" said Kate.

"Hello, Katie." replied Vincent, shifting attention to his daughter and opening a door for her.

Getting into the car, Adler turned on the engine, all the while looking at Burke.

"Isn't it Caffrey over there?" asked the man. "I wonder what caused such dramatic change in his appearance."

"Neal is just trying to win my heart." answered Kate proudly.

"How is that supposed to work? Didn't know you liked clowns."

"Caffrey tries to be a bad guy. And I hate clowns, Dad, but having one as a pet is never a bad thing."

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about, Kate. Can you make sure Neal stays that way for a while? Keep him close. I don't think it will be a hard task." said Adler.

"What's in it for me?"

"We'll agree on something. You know that I'm a person of business."

Saying that Adler saw Peter's car driving away and turning around he drove off in the other direction.

* * *

When they finally were home, Neal went into the house almost shutting the door right in front of Peter's face.

"Watch the attitude or I'll be forced to help you."

"It's a free country and I'm a free thitizen, P'ther! I can do whath I wanth!" retorted Neal.

"Free citizen…" said Peter under his breath, taking the phone to order some food.

While they were waiting, Peter decided that they needed to have a normal conversation. After all, he didn't give Neal any chance to explain his behaviour.

"Neal, all I want to know is why you are doing this."

"That's where we should've started, P'ther. Buth no, the firsth thing you do is yell. It's for Kate. She needs to understand that I'm noth going tho give up so easily. I'm willing to do whatever it thakes tho win her heart." explained Neal.

The teenager went on saying something else but Peter couldn't understand the half of it. That fake piercing was really annoying. And the most irritating thing was that Neal didn't want to take it off, declaring that he needed time to get used to it so that his normal speech would return.

The take-out arrived and Peter went to open the door. Neal was ascending the stairs, when he heard the voice of the agent.

"And take off that piercing!"

"Aaah, come on P'ther! Don't be a party-killer! It's not like you're my father or something!" said Neal good-heartedly.

"I'll show you a party-killer! Where's my slipper?" shouted Peter, hearing the bedroom door shutting.

That evening Neal took Satchmo for a walk, which gave Peter time to discuss some things with Elizabeth.

"I don't think we should worry just yet, hon." said El, after listening to her husband. "It's not like he's doing it only to irritate you."

"To tell you the truth I think he does. He didn't take that damn piercing off until you asked him to. The problem is that Neal thinks I'm joking around with him. I don't know what's really going on in his head, but he acts like I'm his friend. I like spending time with Neal but I don't feel like his friend… I feel more like his…"

"Father?"

"Exactly." replied Peter. "But like Neal said I'm not his father. And he knows it and behaves like there is no tomorrow. Something happens and I don't have any right to decide what to do. _We_ don't have any rights."

"We'll figure something out." said El and kissed Peter softly. After a short pause she started laughing. "You have to admit, Neal's new choice of clothes is pretty hilarious. But somehow he manages to pull this off."

"Yep." Peter joined El in a laughing fit. "The funniest thing about this whole situation is that I had a jacket just like that when I was his age."

Their conversation was interrupted by an unexpected visitor. Mozzie practically ran inside the house. The Burkes never saw him as excited as he was that day.

"Suit, I've made a break-through on our case." said the short guy, opening a box he brought with him. "Where's Neal? I want you all to see this!"

"He'll be here any minute. Mozzie, would you explain what's going on?" asked the agent, joining the other man.

"Why the door is unlocked… Oh, hey Moz!"

"Neal, you've got to see this…" began Mozzie and turning around stopped and looked at his young friend. "Hmm, new look? Acceptable enough. Come on, I have to show you something!"

"Sorry, I have my own things to take care of." answered the teenager and disappeared upstairs.

Mozzie looked like he was about to try and call Neal once again, but Peter stopped him.

"Let him be, Mozzie. So, what you've got?"

Any other day Mozzie wouldn't have let that go so easily; but that day he was too excited to argue. Retrieving a microscope from the box, Mozzie took out a small case.

"Please don't tell me it's…" started Peter, already knowing what it was.

Sitting beside the agent Mozzie carefully laid the fan on the table.

"When you told me Beauchamp's story, I decided to examine the fan one more time…"

"What is it doing here?" growled Peter, pointing at the fan. "It's supposed to be in the evidence."

"I needed it for the investigation so they gave it to me. It's not like I took it myself. Lady Suit was with me the whole time. As I was saying…"

"I highly doubt that Diana said you could take it with you!"

"I made an important discovery, so I took the liberty…" tried to explain Mozzie.

"This is FBI, Haversham. We do things by the book."

"Fortunately, I'm not part of the FBI. So I do things by myself. What I found is important!"

"So important it couldn't wait till morning?" asked Peter.

"If all discoveries waited till morning, there wouldn't be any discoveries at all!" retorted Mozzie loudly and then continued returning to his usual tone. "There is a special hiding place in the fan. Most of the fans of that time had such places for exchanging secret messages or keeping small things. You see these two boards at the sides of the fan? They are called guards. They 'guard' the fan when it's folded. The right guard is the usual size, while his left brother is quite thick. And this is where the 'safe' is hidden. With one soft motion it can be opened."

Mozzie demonstrated the opening and looked at Peter waiting some kind of response.

"Anthony found it the first time we were examining the fan, but as this, let's call it 'safe', was empty, we didn't pay much attention to it. Today I looked under this incredible microscope and found that there are numbers carved on the wood inside the 'safe'. I haven't figured out what those numbers are yet. Maybe it's coordinates, or some kind of a code. Here. See for yourself."

With that Mozzie gave the microscope along with the fan to Peter, who examined everything for a few minutes.

"Looks like you're right, Mozzie. Good job." said the agent and got a small, yet satisfied smile in return. "Still a question, though. Where did you this microscope?"

"FBI has some interesting equipment to offer, so I helped myself to it. You can give this to me as a present, you know. My birthday is tomorrow." declared Mozzie.

"Then what we were celebrating last week?" asked Elizabeth, who happened to be making her way to the backyard.

"Anyway," continued Mozzie, ignoring El's questions and trying to avoid uncomfortable conversation. "What do you think, Suit?"

The ringing of the phone stopped Peter from answering the short guy's question. Peter was in a good mood when he picked up the phone. But that was about to change.

"Yes, Principal Parson." replied Peter through gritted teeth after hearing the first phrase. His face was getting red and his eyes were looking for his slipper. If Neal saw him that moment, he would definitely have wanted to run. And that wouldn't be the worst idea.


	4. Without breaks

"I can't believe it!" exclaimed Beauchamp looking at the numbers, carved on the wood. "This whole story wasn't just a fairy tale after all."

The man continued examining the fan, with fascination evident on his face. It took long enough before Agent Burke finally decided to break the silence.

"Do you know what those numbers might mean?"

"I might have an idea… But I need some time before I can say for sure."

"Boss?" asked Diana, looking into Peter's office. "Mozzie is here and he demands that you don't start without him."

Peter excused himself and went out of the office.

"Where's he?"

"Jones stopped him."

"Diana, Mozzie can't know that Beauchamp is here. He already knows too much about this case." said Peter. "Looks like we're onto something big here and Hughes ordered to keep things quiet for as long as possible."

"Peter, you know that I'm not Mozzie's biggest fan, but he's been great help. Don't you think…"

"No. We can't risk it. We'll tell him when the time is right. But for now keep him busy with something."

Agent Berrigan nodded and left Peter, who after a few seconds returned to his office.

"Agent Burke, I need to be back at the University soon. My students can't wait forever, you know." said Beauchamp, standing up and shaking hands with the agent. "I'll be in touch as soon as I find out anything."

Soon after that Peter summoned his team in the conference room, briefing both Diana and Clinton on the main points of the case.

"We have two paintings: an original and its copy, which led us to the fan." said the agent, pointing to the screen, on which photos of the evidence were shown. "We have two trinkets and there is possibly a third one. It may or may not be a zibeline, and if it was really on the fan it is possible that Adler has it now. This brings me to the next point."

Peter got his place at the table and flipped through the file.

"While we mostly follow our intuition on this case, Adler knows exactly what he's doing and why. Where does he get such information?"

Peter's question was left in the air. For a few minutes the agents were silently studying the details of the case.

"And a new addition to a growing list of questions is those numbers. Beauchamp said he had a theory but refused to tell what it was until he was sure. Maybe I'm being unreasonable, but I want surveillance on Beauchamp. As well as Adler." concluded Peter.

"You think Beauchamp has something to do with Adler?" asked Jones.

"That's what I want to know."

"Boss, it doesn't make sense. Why would Beauchamp do that?"

"I don't know, Diana. In this particular case nothing makes sense to me. I hope I'm wrong and Beauchamp isn't connected with Adler. In that case our surveillance team may be needed as security. That's all for now…" said Peter but suddenly remembering something, added. "Jones, where's Mozzie?"

"He's down at the lab with Anthony. You'd better talk to him, Peter. He put on quite a fight today about not being able to take part in the investigation."

"He'll get over it." replied Burke, looking at his watch. "I have to go. Meanwhile I need you to check out a new lead on Hutson case. No need to waste our time."

"We've got it covered, Peter." answered Jones. "Date with Elizabeth?"

"A meeting with the school principal." sighed Peter. "Neal surely knows how to get attention."

Sooner than he expected Peter stopped the car in front of the school. Neal was already waiting and forced a smile as soon as the agent approached. Much to Neal's dismay, Peter's face was impossible to read. The older man confidently walked into the building not saying a word, leaving Neal nothing but to trail behind. But he wouldn't be Neal Caffrey if he didn't try anything.

"Peter, maybe we should turn around while we still can? I already apologized and got Mr. Parson's suit to the dry-cleaner's." said Neal catching up with the agent.

"What suit?!" all but growled Peter.

At that particular moment Neal could swear that the agent looked bigger and scarier than he actually was. Fortunately for the young con, they have already reached the principal's office.

Mr. Parson was far from being young, although you couldn't call him an elderly. He had a lot of experience when it came to dealing with children and most importantly with their parents. In most of the cases Mr. Parson didn't have problems with the students, it were the parents who brought trouble. He'd lost count how many times he had to argue with frustrated parents, who thought their children were angels. But they had no idea how those 'angels' acted when they were away from home.

Looking through Neal's documents, Mr. Parson puffed in irritation. A federal agent took in a foster kid. No doubt he did it for the sake of his own reputation. Hadn't even met Agent Burke, the principal was already against him and was getting ready to fight, figuratively speaking.

Peter walked into the room being fully ready for the conversation ahead of him. What he didn't expect was that Mr. Parson declined to shake hands as a greeting and almost ordered them to sit down. Nevertheless, the agent didn't let his confusion show.

"Agent Burke, I wanted to talk to you about Neal's outrageous behavior. Yesterday I saw him playing with a tennis ball right in the middle of the canteen. I reprimanded him but instead of an apology I got the said ball in my bowl of soup."

"Mr. Parson, it was just an accident! Someone bumped into me and the ball fell out of my hand!"

"Neal, don't interrupt. I'm sorry Mr. Parson, please continue." said Peter, sending one of his best glares in Neal's direction.

"Like every self-respecting establishment our school has certain rules and we expect our students to follow them. Somehow Neal managed to break most of them in a matter of several weeks! Firstly, I got complaints from the teachers, saying that he didn't turn in his assignments on time. I tried to be understanding and let it slide, hoping that it won't happen again. Then he decided to play dress-up, which disturbed any stability we had in this school. It's hard to keep all of these teenagers under control! I still didn't say anything, but that ball was the last straw."

"I understand, Mr. Parson. I'll do everything in my power to prevent such kind of behavior." assured Peter.

"I don't need promises. Just make sure your boy understands that he can't always hide behind your back. There were a lot of influential people before you, but even they couldn't do anything when their children got in trouble. I won't hesitate to call where needed if there is another breach of the peace caused by Neal. Do you understand, Mr. Caffrey?"

"Yes. You are threatening me with New York Penal Law § 240.20. Disorderly conduct." replied Neal without thinking. Catching astonished expressions of both Peter and the principal, he was quick to add a lie. "I want to go to law school."

"You won't be able to do that unless you get in that head of yours that you are the only one who can take any responsibility for your actions!" said Mr. Parson with heat.

"As far as I know Neal apologized and your suit is already at the dry-cleaner's. Neither I nor my wife had anything to do with it, so if my assumption is correct Neal has taken full responsibility for his misbehavior." replied agent Burke calmly, much to the principal's surprise. "If you asked me to come here expecting that I would somehow try to justify Neal's actions, sorry to disappoint. You do the crime, you do the time, and Neal is well aware of that."

Neal watched the exchange quietly. Although Peter was business-like and looked confident, the teenager knew that the agent wasn't as calm on the inside.

"Neal, you can go back to class." said Mr. Parson finally.

"I'm in no hurry…"

"Neal."

The young con could argue with anyone as long as it was necessary for him to win, but not with Peter, especially when the agent was in such a foul mood. So, not long after that Neal was walking back to the classroom. Meanwhile Peter was finishing his conversation with the principal.

"Mr. Burke, I understand that raising a foster child must be hard, especially such a difficult boy… But it was your decision to take him in; therefore it's your straight responsibility to keep him in line. And looking at his newly found friends, I doubt that it will be long before he gets in some major trouble. If that happens, I'll have to call social serves. When parents can't look after their children, law has to take over."

"Mr. Parson, with all due respect, you don't have to explain law to me. And don't call Neal a difficult child. You don't know anything about him. Just because he doesn't live with his birth parents doesn't mean he is difficult! And it definitely doesn't mean you can treat him any differently. He breaks the rules, he gets punished. No exceptions. But other than that you don't have any rights." said Peter and stood up. "Call anywhere you like, but as long as I have custody over this boy, I'll make sure he's treated right. Good day."

As soon as the agent left the office, Mr. Parson allowed himself to relax. Burke wasn't what he expected. He didn't shout and kept his composure throughout the whole conversation, although it was a rather heated one. Well, time would show what this guy was made of.

Peter stopped in the middle of the hall and took a deep breath. He knew that this meeting with the principal wasn't supposed pleasant, but he didn't think that it would turn out as a complete disaster. Maybe he was exaggerating but it was far from being a civil conversation. Nevertheless, it was a wakeup call for the agent. Something had to be done. And it had to be done as quickly as humanly possible.

"And who do we have here? Agent Burke, is that really you? Don't answer that. I can recognize your posture anywhere."

"Aviana?"

"What? No smile for me?" asked the psychologist, taking off her glasses.

The woman's appearance was completely different from the last time Peter saw her. Her dark hair was now pulled up and there was little make-up on her face. Classic blouse and straight black skirt showed off her figure without making her look indecently. And as usual her look was completed by a pair of shoes on high heels.

"Sorry, Aviana. I've just had a meeting with the principal and…"

"I knew he wouldn't let that accident slide! Mr. Parson is so predictable."

"Don't know about that. Our conversation had a rather unexpected turn." replied Peter, eager to change the subject. "May I ask you something?"

"I think I can allow you one question."

"What is a Doctor of Psychology doing at High School?"

"Another research." answered Aviana and hooked her arm around Peter's elbow. "I got a job as a school counselor. How's Elizabeth, by the way? I didn't have time to visit since I got back to New York."

"El is fine and she'll be happy to see you again." said Peter, having no choice but to follow Aviana, who was walking towards her office. "Listen, it was nice meeting you but I should go back to work."

Aviana stopped and looked the agent in the eyes.

"Peter, your work can wait for five more minutes. This is not about you or me, or anybody else. It's about Neal and it's important."

As soon as they were comfortably seated in Aviana's new office, she started speaking.

"I noticed Neal's new style."

Peter snorted somewhat sadly but otherwise kept silent.

"There is no need to worry about that, Peter. The boy is trying to find himself. It's perfectly normal for his age. If it makes you feel better, I'll keep an eye on him while he's at school." continued Aviana. "What you should worry about are Neal's insecurities."

"He looks pretty confident too me."

"You of all people should know that it's just a façade. But that's not what I wanted to discuss. What are you planning to do with Neal? This kind of relationship between you can't go on forever. You don't know who you are…"

"Aviana, I don't have an identity crisis!" retorted Peter.

The conversation with the principal still had its effect and Aviana seemed to be making things worse. The agent wouldn't have been so straightforward, fine, rude, but it was Aviana and he knew he could trust her. That's why he showed his emotions so easily.

"Of course you don't." answered the psychologist calmly. "I'm talking about your role in Neal's life. You don't know who you are to him. A friend? An FBI agent, who caught him? A neighbor? A guardian? Or…? You should honestly answer this one little question."

"Do you really think this answer will somehow make all of those problems go away? As soon as I understand my role in his life, Neal will miraculously start listening to me and behave himself?" asked the agent sarcastically and louder than necessary.

Silence followed this small outburst. Peter's heavy breathing and the ticking of clock were the only sounds that could be heard. For the agent that situation was beyond awkward, but Aviana considered it to be a part of the process. Peter needed this eruption to become level-headed and to start thinking straight. Not long after that Peter looked at Aviana, who smiled, closing her eyes slightly.

"Thank you." simply said the agent.

Now he knew exactly what to do. Aviana never offered people solutions to their problems. She only made people realize that there indeed was a problem. And that was exactly what agent Burke needed. Feeling like there was nothing else to say, Peter decided to leave. But in his mind Aviana deserved something better than a simple goodbye.

"By the way, love your new blouse." mumbled the agent awkwardly, after thanking the psychologist and making his way to the exit.

"Leave those compliments to your wife, Burke. Only she can understand them." laughed Aviana. "I've had this blouse for three years and I hate it with passion."

"Oh… I… Bye then."

"Peter?"

The agent stopped at the doorway and glanced back.

"You know where to find me."

Peter nodded and finally left the school, calling Elizabeth and making arrangements to meet.

* * *

Neal hoped a trip to the principal's office would stop him from attending math, but he got to class just in time. Before we continue, it's important to say a few words about the teacher, Mrs. Nash.

Her children had their own families and moved to other cities. For a long time Mrs. Nash lived only with her husband, but he was taken from her by a horrible illness. Her work became her life and her heart, as some of her students liked to say, turned into a calculator. All in all she was a good teacher. But like all of us she had her own cockroaches in the head. She had enough knowledge to apply for a higher position than just a school teacher. But she enjoyed having authority over children and being in her own way influential.

The classroom reminded more of a beehive, so much clattering and buzzing was going on. Mrs. Nash walked into the room and everything went quiet. As usual the plump woman was dressed in her favorite purple dress and carried a pile of papers. She walked slowly towards her desk, hearing that whispering filled the room.

"You're all feeling chatty today? What?! What's so funny, Ray? Stand up and tell the class, we'll laugh with you." said Mrs. Nash, not raising her voice a bit, but still sounding as indisputable as ever.

There was one thing that stood out of her whole appearance. And it was her left foot, or rather what was on it. Instead of the black shoe, similar to the one she had on her right foot, Mrs. Nash wore a slipper. Her ankle was carefully bandaged and the students immediately came to a conclusion that it was sprained. The woman sat down without her usual easiness and spread the papers on the table.

"Mrs. Nash, wouldn't it be more comfortable if you wore both slippers?" asked one of the boys, who clearly didn't have any self-preservation.

Before the teacher had a chance to answer, a blond girl in a bright red blouse got into the conversation.

"A woman always has to look impeccable, no matter what's going on in her life."

"That's absolutely right, Samantha." replied Mrs. Nash. "I see that you're eager to have a conversation today. I won't make you wait. Go to the blackboard and explain to us how to solve the problem you had for your homework. And your curious collocutor will be the next in line."

The girl sighed and stood up. So much for trying to get in good graces!

Neal had had enough adventures for one day, so he wisely decided to be quiet. He opened the book and sighed, looking at the boring numbers and graphs. A not so smart, but at least fun idea came to his mind and he immediately started working on it, ignoring everything that was going on around him. Fortunately, no one bothered him. Towards the end of the lesson Neal finally raised his head from his "work" to look at the time. His eyes never reached the huge clock that was situated right above the door, as he saw how Mrs. Nash was scolding one his friends.

"Not another word, Marty. Here, take this note to your parents and I want them to sign it."

"Mrs. Nash…" tried to argue the boy.

"Unless you want to go to the principal's office, take your seat."

The saving bell rang and Neal finally got his freedom. He went out of the classroom in hopes to find Kate, when he noticed Marty, who always looked as he was happiness in a human form. But now he was struck all of a heap. Marty didn't have any special talents and was constantly chewed up by the teachers. Nevertheless, he always managed to keep positive thinking. Beside that, he was very sociable and sometimes it seemed like he was friends with everyone and everything.

Looking at Marty Neal, not without hesitation, left the idea of finding Kate and nodded to Roger meaningfully. The other boy quickly understood what to do without being said.

"Marty, wait up!" shouted Roger and started running with Neal in tow. "What's up, dude? Where's that famous cheerfulness of yours?"

"Get lost, guys. I'm fine." grumbled Marty and carried on his way.

When the boys still didn't leave him alone, he turned around.

"You wanna help? Go away, will ya?" The teenager leaned on the wall, running his hand through his black hair.

"Maybe we can help." said Neal, and catching a sight of Kate in the distance, casually put his hands in the pockets.

"My parents are out of town for a few days. I'm staying with my older brother. If he sees this note, he'll rip my head off! And I couldn't say to Mrs. Nash that my parents are away. She wouldn't have believed me! So you can't help, not unless you can become my Dad and sign the note." replied Marty, not noticing Neal's gestures.

At that moment Kate, surrounded by girls, walked pass them.

"Hey, Caffrey."

"Hey, babe." answered Neal, getting a small smile in reply from the girl.

"Told you it would work." whispered Roger.

The young con smiled, but then his attention travelled back to Marty, who was about to leave.

"Marty, do you still have that permission slip your dad signed?" asked Neal, having a brilliant idea how to help his friend.

"Yeah…"

"Give it to me. And the note."

Marty looked puzzled but didn't ask anything. He gave the requested items to Neal, who immediately asked for the pen.

"What are you doing?! Neal, wait… WOW!"

Marty's eyes were ready to pop out of his head as he looked at the signature which now decorated the note and looked exactly like his father's.

"How did you do that?"

"It's not wise to reveal your secrets." winked Neal.

"Hey, we can make money on this kind of thing!" said Roger, meaning it as a joke, and looked closely at the forged signature.

"I can bring you the clients." offered Marty, feeling grateful and wanting to help his savior in one way or another. "You'll have a business running in no time. Trust me, there are a lot of people who need this kind of services."

"For real? You can do that Marty?"

"Sure, Roger." replied the boy. "Thanks a bunch, Neal. I owe you!"

"Are you serious about this whole business idea?" asked Neal, as soon as Marty left.

"Why not? It will be good for your reputation. And a good reputation will help you get closer to Kate. Besides, having extra cash won't hurt. Think about it, Neal." replied Roger, tapping his finger on Neal's head. "We can't let your talents waste, can we?"

"I don't know, Rog. But I'll give it a thought."

* * *

Later that day Neal really gave that topic a thought. In fact he chose an excellent time for it, in his opinion. Peter made him sit through one of his boring lectures about actions, consequences and responsibility.

"Neal, are you even listening to me?"

The teenager, who was mentally making a business plan, raised his eyes and looked innocently at the agent.

"It's not a joke. The principal is waiting for you to screw up. Behave yourself or else…"

"I'm trying, Peter! What do you want me to do? Stop breathing?" interrupted Neal, standing up from the couch and making a move to go upstairs.

"You don't get it, Neal. Something happens and the social services will be there with inspection. We don't need it. Not now." said the agent, grabbing the young con's arm. In contrast to Neal Peter didn't raise his voice.

"Let go of me! You and Parson are two old control freaks! It was just a damn ball, and you're making it look like it was a crime of the century."

Peter's grip tightened as he pulled Neal closer.

"I'm done fooling around with you. I told you it wasn't about the ball a thousand times. There's a lot more to this situation. We are talking about your future, Neal!"

"My future is only my concern! And I'll take care of it when it comes. Right now I have more important things to think about." shouted Neal, finally getting away from Peter.

"Your 'right now' is what makes your future!" stated the older man, but his words fell on deaf ears.

Peter heard how Neal slammed the door of his bedroom. His first instinct was to go up there and give the teenager a piece of his mind, but he simply didn't have enough energy for that. Instead the agent grabbed a beer and threw himself on the couch.

This is exactly how Elizabeth found her husband some time later, when she returned home. He was toying with the now empty bottle. A deep concern was visible not only in the features of his face, but in every muscle of the body.

"Hey, hon." whispered El, after taking away the bottle and kissing Peter lightly on the lips. "By the look on your face I guess it didn't go well with Neal."

"Nope. He called me an old control freak."

"Don't take it to heart. You're not that old." smiled El, snuggling next to her husband, who immediately put his arm around her. "What happened?"

"I was trying to knock some sense into him. But Neal wouldn't listen. He doesn't want to think about his future. He doesn't even want to talk about it!"

"Teenagers always live the moment and don't think about tomorrow. Neal is not any different in that sense."

"I get it, El. But he can't live like that forever, not with the given circumstances."

"Sooner or later he'll understand that."

"And what should we do? Watch him ruin his own life? Because that what's going to happen if we don't step in."

"I think we should let Neal learn from his mistakes, while we are working on 'stepping in'."

Peter turned and looked at his wife. She seemed relaxed, but her voice was full of determination.

"El, are you sure about…"

El sat up rather abruptly and looked the agent in the eyes, effectively making him to keep quiet.

"Listen carefully, Peter Burke, because I won't repeat these words ever again. It's not only what you think we have to do, it's what I want to do. If you have any doubts or seconds thoughts…"

"No." replied Peter firmly, not letting Elizabeth finish her small speech. "No second thoughts about that."

After that reassurance from his wife, Peter indeed didn't have any doubts. He and El discussed everything. No more talking was needed and Peter was fine with it. After all, he was always a man of action. So the next two weeks the Burkes were caught up in work. But even their busy schedules couldn't save them from tension that was building up in their household. Neal was demonstratively quiet and withdrawn around them. The teenager didn't break any rules, but you couldn't call it model behavior either. If he was told to be home by ten, he would be there at ten sharp. Not a minute later, but not a second earlier. He didn't do anything unless you asked him and also tried to be away from home as much as he possible. In fact, Peter saw Neal only at times when the teenager got home and headed straight to bed. Neal was annoyingly polite. Nevertheless, every single sentence which came out of his mouth was soaked with rudeness and insolence. These two weeks had changed Neal completely. Surely Peter understood that the process had started a lot earlier, but the drastic results could be seen only now.

The moment Peter met Neal he saw great potential in him. He saw a kid who had lots of talents but didn't know what to do with his life. He saw a hard-working artist. Most importantly Peter saw a kind boy, who, he hoped, would grow into a good man. But never would have Peter thought that Neal Caffrey he knew so well would become something like this. You could almost feel arrogance radiating from the teenager. It was everywhere: in his posture, in his speech, in his manners. Neal was stuck in his own world. Moreover, he was the king of that world and it looked like he wasn't going to leave it any time soon.

Peter was driving home for lunch and passed the school. He hesitated for a few moments. He debated whether to wait for Neal or not, but considering their current situation he finally decided against it. The agent continued his journey and soon enough he heard loud laughing. A small group of teenagers walked from around the corner. Peter was close enough to hear their words. And what he heard made him wish he was deaf. Agent Burke had heard a lot during his work at the Bureau: most of the people he caught weren't sophisticated in their choice of words. Peter was used to hearing swearing that came from rough, hard-bitten criminals. But when such kinds of words were coming from children… Noticing a familiar black leather jacket, Peter recognized Neal. He couldn't say that he was surprised, but it still came out as quite a shock.

Peter couldn't bring himself to saying that the teenager was walking. From the distance it looked like Neal was vacillating on his feet, when in fact it was just his new "style". His arm was draped around the girl, who Peter assumed was Kate. The agent wasn't one of those who criticized young people for showing too much affection. He usually liked that innocent first love and always smiled at the view of a young couple holding hands or even kissing like there was no tomorrow. But seeing how Neal's hand suddenly landed on Kate's rear end with a loud slap made Peter clench his teeth, as if he got a blow in the gut. The man was ready to jump out of the car any second but his body was paralyzed with anger and disgust. After seeing what Neal did, Peter wouldn't be surprised if Kate turned around and slapped the teenager on the face. So what happened next agitated the agent even more.

Kate started laughing and allowed Neal to grab her by the waist and they started kissing, although it looked more like they were just trying to swallow each other's faces. The teenagers around them exploded with laughter and more unnecessary swearing flooded the street.

While Peter was getting himself together, all of Neal's friends went in different directions. The young con himself started "walking" towards the house. The agent went out of the car and slammed the door, making Neal turn around. The teenager stopped and looking at the approaching man took out a gum and started chewing it loudly, opening his mouth as widely as if he was getting ready to swallow a truck.

"What was that?" roared Peter, finally standing in front of Neal.

"What was what, Peter?" asked the teenager, tilting his head to the side and not stopping chewing the gum.

The agent's head was already spinning and the smell of cigarettes that practically punched him in the face didn't help.

"You have been smoking." stated the agent. "How much does a person have to despise himself to act like this?"

"It's my life. I can do whatever I want." declared Neal, and tried to walk away from Peter, who caught him by his collar.

"You want your teeth to fall out before you're thirty? Fine. It's your choice." whispered Peter fiercely in Neal's ear. "But at least do it not in school hours. Why aren't you at the lesson?"

"Decided to take a break."

Peter couldn't take it anymore. Gripping Neal's collar tightly he dragged the teenager and almost threw him in the passenger seat. During a short ride home their argument not only hadn't stopped but became even more heated.

"I don't give a shit what you think is right, Peter!" shouted Neal, walking into the house and stopping abruptly at the door.

"Hold your tongue!" barked the agent, following the teenager.

Peter closed the door and not hearing any other retorts from Neal let out a relieved sigh. Turning towards the living room he understood why the boy suddenly stopped arguing. A tall scrawny man in a grey suit was sitting beside Elizabeth on the couch. He watched at scene in front of him for a few minutes and then wrote something down. Closing his notepad silently, the man stood up and gave El a sugary smile.

"Thank you, Mrs. Burke. I think I've seen enough. Have a nice day."

With that he left. Peter looked at El questioningly, already knowing the answer but still hoping he was wrong.

"He is from CPS." said El.

For a moment everything went deathly quiet. Neal and Peter were still standing by the door, when teenager broke the silence.

"What is CPS?"

"Child Protective Services. That man was here to see if we are capable of taking care of you and it's not hard to guess what his report is going to be like!" exclaimed Peter. "Now do you understand that it's not a game?! They can take you away!"

"I don't care!" shouted Neal in reply and ran back into the street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's going to happen next? What do you think? Revies are loved! Thank you for reading!


	5. Big Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all I want to thank each of you for your fantastic support! You are the best!  
> Second of all, I recommend you to reread chapters 8 and 9 of Fake People, as I use characters from those chapters and mention some details. Thank you for understanding.  
> Last but not least, I love your reviews and would be glad to know what you think about this chapter!
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

When you're young and full of energy you think that this world was created for you. You can get anything you want, anytime you want. And when you decide to leave, it's definitely forever. Who needs parents and their rules? Who do they think they are? You're almost an adult yourself! It's your life. No one can order you around!

That's exactly what most of the youngsters think after having an argument with their parents. Parents don't understand their problems, but friends do. Parents don't care about what they want, but friends do. Parents want to shout at them, but friends want to help. All in all, parents are mean controlling creatures, who live only to torture their children.

What we all don't understand, or most of the time refuse to understand, is that our parents are the only people in the world who truly have our best interests at heart. Friends may tell us what we want to hear, but parents will tell us what we need to hear. When the whole world turns away, our parents will stand by our side. If, and when, somebody even tries to think badly about us, our parents will throttle our offenders without second thoughts. Do we notice all this? Most importantly, do we care?

If we're being honest with ourselves, we'll probably get the negative answer. What we do notice is their anger and disappointment, when we're in trouble. What we do care about is how many times they scolded us and punished us, how many times they took away our privileges and didn't let us go out with our friends.

Clothes, money, food – parents must provide this! It's their responsibility, isn't it? When something goes wrong and turns out that our dramatic "leaving forever" isn't forever after all, parents must forgive us and take us back. When we have problems that we can't solve ourselves, parents must help us. They must do this, they must do that… We are here because they gave us this life. And we live a good life, only because they are here for us. But after even a slightest argument we drown in self-pity. We are the victims and our parents, in our eyes, enjoy arguing with us.

We don't see how every time our mothers cry after a heated argument. We don't notice how our fathers' hearts clench with worry. We don't care how much pain we bring by slamming the door and walking away. We can't even start to imagine how many sleepless nights our parents spent because they worry about us. We can't imagine any of this until we become parents ourselves. And this is exactly what Peter and Elizabeth were going through.

Peter looked at Elizabeth and shook his head before closing the front door.

"I couldn't find him anywhere."

The agent sank into the chair, rubbing his forehead. His heart was beating crazy fast and the man squeezed his eyes shut, taking a shaky breath.

"Peter, are you feeling all right?"

"I'm fine, hon." replied Peter, trying for El's sake to sound calm. "I'm just worried. I know that Neal can take care of himself, but there are some things that are beyond our control. If anything happens…"

"It won't. Eventually he will get back home."

"Let's hope so. He was pretty mad at me, you know. I lost my cool when I saw him on the street acting like that. Now I totally understand my dad. You are doing everything you can to raise your kid and as soon as you don't give him enough attention, he's getting out of control. But Neal can't afford himself a luxury of crossing the line every time he feels like it. He's already on the radar. Such kind of behavior can lead him to jail."

"Well, looks like you already have a solution to our problem. Neal needs attention."

"He'll get plenty of it once we finish with collecting the documents. By the way, did the guy from CPS ask anything specific before we came?"

"No, only some standard questions. What he saw will complicate the whole process, won't it? Peter, what if..." El's voice trembled and she put her hand over her mouth.

"We'll fight for him till the end." said Peter firmly. "Jones has a college buddy, who's a lawyer. He said he'll look into our case."

This conversation took place three hours after Neal left the house. A couple of hours passed with the Burkes trying to find the boy and to solve the problem with the CPS. As darkness covered the streets of New York, Elizabeth was taking Peter's blood pressure, because the agent looked worse than ever. Worry was eating him from the inside and he felt like he got a couple of decades older in a matter of a few hours.

In the meantime Neal was having a time of his life with Roger. When he told Peter that he didn't care he meant it. He didn't care what was going to happen. Even if the CPS decided to take him away from the Burkes, Neal would have been glad. They didn't need him and he didn't need them. They only complicated his life. And Neal in his turn was standing in the way of their happiness.

On the other hand, Neal didn't have to survive anymore and could truly enjoy life. The only thing he cared about was his reputation. Things with Kate were going smoothly, as well as his business. This meteoric rise to fame made Neal arrogant. He stopped thinking about consequences. The teenager was sure that he would be able to come out clean in any situation. There was nothing to stop him. Besides, he wasn't alone. The young forger had a lot of friends not only at school. Being in Kate's good graces meant that Neal was back in her gang. Slowly but surely he started gaining their respect. Soon enough nobody thought of Neal as a stranger or outsider. Even Tim, or as he was known in this particular circle Prince, had to reckon Neal as a "smart kid".

As flattering as such kind of attention was to Neal, Kate remained the most important person for the teenager. She obviously liked his new 'bad boy' attitude. Sammy and his expensive gifts remained unnoticed by the girl and she spent most of her time with Neal. He was in control and she allowed it. It's not necessary to mention that Kate allowed much more than that, as we have already seen how Neal acted around her. Not only did Kate let Neal treat her like that, but she also showed him that she enjoyed it. And of course the young con jumped out of his skin to please her.

When Neal and Roger walked into the local park it was rather late; too late for them to be on the street without any supervision. The park was almost deserted and those few people who were still there at this time were too busy to notice two teenagers. Sadly, nowadays it's not uncommon for people to ignore others. When and how it became easier to pretend not to see what's going on around you, no one can tell for sure. It just did and now we live like this. Of course we can choose another path and remain kind and supportive in any circumstances, but unfortunately most of us decide to follow the mainstream. And this is exactly why the two boys continued on their way without any intrusion.

"I've been thinking a lot lately, Neal, and came to a conclusion that it's time to expand our business." said Roger around a mouthful of the cupcake he was eating. "Remember that girl who asked to 'fix' her grades?"

"Forging signatures on permission slips and notes is one thing but hacking into the system is completely different. If…"

"If you don't know how to do it, just say so. Don't make me listen to this 'if we get caught' bullshit." replied Roger, licking the remains of cream from his plump fingers.

Neal looked at his friend and smiled mischievously. He couldn't say no to a clear challenge. He couldn't hack into the system. Yet. But a few days of research and another couple of days for practice and he would be able to do anything. And if they managed to stay in the shadows and not get caught all this time, and in a teenager's mind two weeks is a long time, they would definitely be able to pull this off.

"More opportunities mean more clients. More clients mean more money." stated Roger as a matter-of-factly. "And if we have more money, that means we can pull something big for your birthday, dude! By the way, any plans?"

"With everything that's been going on didn't have time to think about it." answered Neal honestly and looked up at the dark sky. "You know, Rog, I should probably go."

"Hey, are you on the run or not? If you return home now, your folks are gonna chew you out. Stay out a bit longer, make them worry. When you finally show up they'll be happy to have you alive and won't bother you. Chill out, man, and enjoy this fantastic evening."

"Aren't your parents gonna be worried?"

"Nah. Told 'em I was going to spend a night at Grandma's, and then told Grandma that I couldn't come. Come on, man. It's Friday night, what ya wanna do?"

"It's more like Saturday morning, Roger." stated Neal. "And let's just stay here for a while. But I know one place that you might find interesting. We can go there a bit later."

After that boys started discussing some much more exciting topics, such as Neal's upcoming birthday. During all this time Neal didn't spare a thought for Peter or Elizabeth, who kept waiting for his return.

Dawn broke, announcing the end of a sleepless night. Peter glanced at El, who seemed to be finally dozing on the couch, and closed his eyes. The agent didn't realize that he'd fallen asleep, but that peace was short-lived anyway. The door opened and Neal quietly walked in.

The teenager looked at the Burkes. Clearly they have been waiting for him all night. To his own surprise Neal didn't feel anything. Not a hint of guilt or shame. The only thing that bothered him was a growing headache.

Peter managed to open his eyes and felt relief washing over him. Neal's return meant that not everything was lost. He was about to get up, but the teenager threw him a disdainful glance and headed upstairs. Well, at least he got back in one piece…

The whole weekend Peter tried to talk with Neal. He was still sure that a problem like this could be solved by a conversation. The older man knew that Neal wasn't the only one to blame. But unlike Neal, Peter was ready to admit his guilt and at least try to find a compromise of some sorts. All he got as a response was a couple of swearing words and the slamming of the door. At one point Neal managed to piss off Peter so much with his attitude that the agent was ready to give a stubborn teenager a good slap on the head. Fortunately for the young con Jones came at the right moment. It wasn't unusual for the agent to arrive to discuss some work related business. But this time it was different. Neal noticed that Elizabeth joined the two men at the table. Moreover, Clinton brought a few files filled with papers but none of those files looked like the ones they had at the Bureau. Neal had to admit he was a bit interested in what was going on. After wasting a few minutes on trying to listen on their conversation, the teenager gave up on his attempts and convinced himself that it didn't matter. He reminded himself that he wasn't supposed to care and with a light heart decided to pay more attention to his business and the idea of extending it.

Jones' visit wasn't the only thing that seemed to be unusual. Both Peter and Elizabeth were acting quite strange and it unnerved Neal to no end. On Saturday Neal didn't have time to notice any of this, as he was too busy openly ignoring Peter. But as Sunday arrived, the teenager realized that something weird was going on. Peter was constantly talking on the phone and running around the house with a pile of papers. When he wasn't doing that, he was talking with Elizabeth, which probably shouldn't be strange, but it was. Once Neal got close enough to hear and they immediately stopped talking, although not a mere second ago they seemed to be having a rather important conversation.

If something hadn't changed already, it was about to. Neal could feel that. He could tell it by looking at the Burkes. But he didn't care. No, Peter's intimidating and penetrating looks, which the agent was constantly sending in Neal's direction, didn't scare the teenager. The young forger reminded himself that it was just Peter. What could he do to him? Peter Burke could yell at him, sure. But Neal didn't take his words to heart, so he didn't care about that. Peter could threaten to send Neal back to juvie, but they both knew he wouldn't do that. He also could try to ground him or even try to invent some other ridiculous punishment, but that didn't bother Neal at all. He was Neal Caffrey, for goodness sake! He could do anything and still walk away without facing any consequences!

* * *

Finally the day Neal had been waiting for came. One more step to adulthood. One more step to freedom. Neal's sweet sixteen turned out pretty good for the teenager. Laughter, loud music, drinks and lots of people, most of whom Neal even didn't know, – all of that showed that the party was only starting. While more and more people were joining, the birthday boy himself remained in the center of attention.

The evening was still young when Kate came up to Neal and offered to leave. The young con immediately agreed, because it was an opportunity to spend some time with Kate without any interruptions. With the music pounding in their ears, two youngsters left a spacious hall and walked into a quiet room. After a few minutes filled with sweet talking and a couple of kisses, Kate's phone started ringing. The girl answered, her expression changing with every passing second.

"I have to go." announced Kate, sighing in frustration. "I wanted this evening to be memorable for you, but I guess it's going to be another dull evening."

"I can walk you home." said Neal, noticing Kate's dampened mood.

"You can't. Open that door and you'll see how many people there are waiting for you. You can't leave because of me." started arguing Kate.

She knew Neal well enough to predict his reaction to such words. Show him that you're feeling insecure about your relationship and he will be ready to do anything to prove that you are the only thing in the whole world that truly matters. Once again her theory was proven right. Kate finally agreed to allow Neal to walk her home and offered to take a long way. They were walking through unknown streets. It's important to note that those streets and the direction they were heading were unknown only to Neal. Kate, on the other hand, knew exactly what was going on and why.

The weather was typical for the last days of October. Autumn season was in full swing and winds brought with themselves not only fresh and relatively cold air, but also nasty drizzling rains.

After some time, Kate and Neal stopped in front of a big mansion. It stood proudly under the darkening sky, making the teenagers look at it with fascination. Both of them didn't say anything but silently wished that one day they would be able to afford to live in a house like that. And who wouldn't have dreamt about such things? People always wish for things they don't have and dream about impossible. But those impossible dreams and desire to seek the unknown is what leads us to greatness. To make a discovery you have to do something that has never been done before.

Kate studied Neal for a few seconds and deciding that he was prepared to get new information spoke up.

"This house looks like it's ready to be robbed. I have a trained eye for this, you know. We would be able to get a good haul, if only someone had enough guts to pull such job…"

Kate glanced at Neal and saw what she was hoping to see. A plan was forming in his far from stupid, but so naïve head. Perfect!

"Are you gonna stand here all night, Neal?"

Sooner than Neal expected they were in front of Kate's house. The girl was about to unlock the door, when Neal caught her by hand and kissed her on the lips.

Kate was surprised, no, make that shocked. She was entertaining him the whole evening and all she gets is this pathetic excuse for a kiss?! This is just sad, even for Caffrey. Focus, Kate! It's not like he's your real boyfriend! But still this sloppy 'kiss' is just disgusting. Breathe, Kate, breathe.

"Oh, Caffrey! What a hot kiss!" said the girl and leaning closer whispered. "Tomorrow, 10 a.m. Our usual gathering place."

Neal was on cloud nine when he returned to the party. Life was getting better and better…

Meanwhile Peter and Elizabeth found themselves waiting for Neal. Again. They had their own small party going on. At some point Peter's father called and demanded to speak with the birthday boy. The agent had to tell stories about Neal being caught up in a conversation with his friends and that he didn't want to interrupt. It was rather late and Peter didn't want to admit that Neal still wasn't home.

"I lied to my own father for him!" exclaimed the agent, putting the phone down with more force than necessary. "And not only to him, El. Our neighbor saw Neal coming home at five in the morning and I said that he decided to look after his health and took up running. Running, El! Not far from the truth, though, as Neal is constantly running away from us. You know how much I hate lying but it just happens when it comes to covering for Neal."

"It's natural, hon. It's what all parents do." replied Elizabeth, rubbing her husband's shoulders. "It will be better for everyone if instead of thinking about such trivial things, you start thinking about those papers."

"I am thinking about the papers. Everything is almost ready anyway."

Peter relaxed under gentle hands of his wife. Only that woman was capable of making things better, if not solving the whole problem. Peter never understood men who said that one woman or another could make him forget himself. Elizabeth made him remember who he was. The phone rang, bringing the agent to the world of living.

"Burke. I'll be there in twenty." Peter abruptly rose to his feet and started pulling on his jacket. "There was an attempt robbery of Beauchamp's house."

"Is everyone ok?"

"Yes. Looks like nothing was taken. I'm more than sure Adler has something to do with this. And Neal chose perfect time to hang out with Adler's daughter!" said the agent and in a blink of an eye left the house, not forgetting to kiss his wife.

Elizabeth curled up on the couch with a cup of hot tea. Dim light was streaming from a tall floor-lamp, creating comfort and peace. The woman sat silently, sipping from time to time tea and listening to the sounds of a drizzling rain. The wind was getting stronger and the sounds of droplets hitting the window were getting louder, meaning that it began raining harder. Satchmo lay down at El's feet and whined sadly.

"I know, Satch. I want them both to be home, too."

The dog looked up and rubbed his nose against Elizabeth, as if showing his understanding.

"We'll get it right, Satch. Sooner or later we'll get it right." mumbled the woman, stroking Satchmo's soft fur.

When Neal finally returned home, Elizabeth didn't even try to say anything about the teenager coming so late. She knew it was useless.

* * *

The night seemed to be ridiculously long, so Neal was glad when the rain finally subdued and morning came. Looking at the time the young con realized he had enough time before school started. But that day he wasn't planning on wasting his time on school. No, he was going to spend it much more wisely. And since Peter still hadn't returned home that wouldn't be a problem at all. Not that the agent would have been any obstacle, but he could certainly make things complicated. Fortunately for Neal, El was the only person present and even if she tried to try and stop him he would easily get rid of her. Neal shuddered after that thought passed his mind but he immediately brushed it off and continued gathering things he needed for his latest plan, once again reminding himself that he wasn't supposed to care. Strangely enough, he really didn't care.

The teenager was about to leave, when El tried to stop him, insisting it was still early and he had time for breakfast. Little did she know that she was standing in Neal's way. And when Neal regarded something as a threat to his plans, he couldn't control himself. So after El's proposition the teenager didn't even provide any answer and continued walking.

"Neal, it's really not good for your health to…"

"Worry about your kiddies, will ya El? I can take care of myself."

"Neal." said Elizabeth not losing her cool, but still with a hint of warning. Neal had never been so outright rude to her.

Instead of apologizing or replying calmly, which would be the most reasonable choice to make, Neal acted in a completely opposite manner. Frustration was building up inside of him and he didn't even make an attempt to rein in his emotions. He was so fed up with people trying to take over his life. They didn't understand that sooner or later they would get tired of him and would throw him out. If they truly cared like they claimed, they would have already done something. He was doing whatever he wanted all this time and they hadn't made any attempts to prevent such behavior. That could only mean one thing. They didn't care. In that case, they shouldn't bother him at all.

Neal didn't say anything. He didn't even look at astounded El and left the house, shutting the door loudly – a motion, which became his new habit during the last couple of weeks.

After a few moments El used to recover after what had just happened, she dialed Peter's number. The call went straight to voicemail.

"Peter, whatever important business you're dealing with right now can most certainly wait. Neal is forgetting himself in playing these games. Call me back as soon as you get this."

The woman put down the phone and took a bunch of papers out of the drawer.

"Don't tell we haven't given you liberty to act on your own accord, Neal. It's our move now." she said out loud.

In the meantime the young con took a cab. His business was going smoothly and he had more than enough money to drive around the city without waiting for charity money from the Burkes. That thought brought him back to Roger's idea of expanding the field of their services. But first things first, he needed to prove to Kate, and to himself, that he was the best at what he did. And what he did was conning people.

Although Neal was bragging about how he got caught by the feds while pulling out a big museum heist, he knew that he didn't actually do anything. Keller did the entire job and Neal was supposed to take the painting from him and pass it to another man. That 'job' was nothing but a joke and somehow Neal managed to screw up and let the feds get their claws into him. He learned his lesson. This time he wouldn't get caught. This time he would be the mastermind of the operation.

Getting out of the cab and taking a photo camera from his bag, Neal went straight to the mansion, at which he and Kate were looking the previous night. He pretended to take a couple of pictures. The young man slowly went around the house, looking attentively for cameras or any other security measures. To his surprise, and not to mention delight, there were only a couple of cameras, one of which was monitoring the main entrance. The other one was situated on the northern part of the building, which was facing a narrow and quiet street. There was a block of flats right across that street, which was rather convenient in Neal's opinion. Taking a few pictures – this time real ones – the teenager made his way to the main entrance. He stopped and looked at the closed gates. He couldn't just break into the house in broad daylight, could he? In order to do things right he needed to get closer. But how?

No sooner than the question arose, the answer was found. Two men went out of the building, carrying something that looked like a huge pipe. They put it down for a moment and opened the gates from the inside. Neal started a conversation, all the while holding the door of the gates opened for the workers.

"Ah, excuse me. My name's Nick Holden and I need a few photographs of historical buildings for my class. Would you mind if I took a few pictures of this house?"

"We don't mind at all. The owner, on the other hand, might. Ask her." answered one of the men, breathing heavily. He nodded towards an elderly woman, who was standing at the stairs.

June Ellington – the owner of the house – turned out to be a friendly woman. After only a couple of minutes Neal understood that he really enjoyed her company. Not all rich and wealthy people were scumbags. As Neal found out a little bit later, June was also a great storyteller.

She showed him her house with evident pleasure and soon enough Neal was lost in the story of two brothers, who came to America from Turkey and made their fortune by selling cigarettes. Looking at the richly decorated smoking room, Neal imagined how Morris Schinasi – the original owner of the house – sat in his armchair and took out a cigarette from a colourful box decorated with Egyptian motifs. Was it just Neal's imagination or he could really smell the strong Oriental tobacco from those cigarettes?

Neal couldn't help but compare this house with Beauchamp's mansion. These two buildings were so similar on the outside: both were built in the style of French Renaissance. But they were strikingly different on the inside. Walking into Beauchamp's mansion was like travelling back in history and coming to Renaissance France. But June's house combined the mixture of European and Eastern cultures, both of which weren't getting in each other's ways but harmoniously mixed, creating a truly majestic sight. Those buildings were just like people, who may look alike but when you get to know them better, you understand that they have nothing in common.

Neal was quickly getting emotionally attached to June, as she told him about her late husband, Byron. June told the young con how she met her husband and how they used to be happy together, regardless if the circumstances.

"In the end true love always wins." said June carefully brushing off the dust from one of the suits.

"Why do you keep all this stuff?" asked Neal, looking at the shelves full of Byron's clothes.

"I don't know. Sometimes I get lonely and these things help me remember the good old times. And it makes me happy again."

"I think these things only make you focused on your past. You're so… you know, alive and real."

June stopped for a second, looking somewhere in the distance. She smiled faintly and spoke up again,

"I think you're right. Byron would have wanted me to move on. As for the clothes, I'll think of something."

Neal left the house with mixed emotions. Kate was right. There were a lot of things that were practically waiting for somebody to steal them. But meeting with June made Neal thinking if all of this was worth it. She was such a nice woman… Turning around and casting a glance at the mansion once again, Neal finally decided to follow his original plan. Yes, Mrs. Ellington was nice. So what? Sometimes even nice people got robbed. Life isn't always fair.

Being in high spirits Neal got to the gathering place rather quickly. He got all the information he needed. He knew not only usual stuff like security cameras, but he also learned about the location of the rooms and even noticed where the safe was. With this information everything was going to be perfect. From the bits of information, gathered from his conversation with June, Neal figured out that the house was under some kind of construction at the moment. So in the next couple of days the mansion was going to be empty, at least at night.

Neal saw that most of the guys from the gangs were already there. The teenager's eyes searched for Kate. However, the girl was nowhere to be seen. Much to Neal's relief Prince was also missing, which meant he didn't have to deal with their strained relationship. The teenagers were loudly discussing something, gathered around Toby, who was clearly explaining his new plan.

"I'm telling you! It'll be more effective if we come in there from the back door… Caffrey! Come here, dude! What do you think?"

"I think it would be better to have somebody on the inside first, Toby. But other than that, it's a good plan." replied Neal, taking a cigarette from Toby. He did that mostly to keep up his appearances, but a small part of him, that was growing with every passing day, really enjoyed this kind of life. His moral compass was broken and he found it easier to live without it.

"We'll send Sammy then. Nobody will suspect him of anything." said Toby, studying the paper in front of him.

"We can do that. Or we can do something more interesting."

All heads immediately turned to Neal. The forger took that as a permission to go on.

"There is a mansion filled with antiquities. Would you like to have a look inside?"

"A mansion? Like a house where there are actual people living there? It's risky, Neal." said Chuck.

"Don't take off your lucky jacket and we'll be fine. I checked out the security there. It's a joke, guys. We can get past it without any real effort." assured Caffrey.

"We can all go to jail if we get caught." retorted Jacob. "I can't afford such luxury." he added quietly, glancing at Rebecca.

"Tell you what, guys. There is a chance, a real chance, to pull a big heist. We pull this off and we are on a new level. Otherwise we'll remain petty little pickpockets for the rest of our lives. Is there is a possibility that we can get caught? Absolutely. But there is the same possibility that we get caught pickpocketing or shoplifting as well. The only difference is how big the profits are. The risks are always high. But if we do everything together, we'll be fine. Besides, did I mention that the house will be completely empty tomorrow night?"

That got everyone's attention, not to mention approval. All the guys decided to join. And who wouldn't?

"To get into the house we need to get past two cameras and one security guard. He goes around the house once every two hours. The other time he monitors the perimeter with the help of the cameras." said Neal, drawing a map. The forger was clearly proud of how he put all the pieces together. He noticed the guard's pattern while he was at the mansion and knew that at night there wouldn't be any others, because he saw that only guard the night of his birthday, when they were there with Kate. "We need to get him out of the house for some time. Any ideas?"

"I can do it." said Chuck after a moment of hesitation. "I can 'accidently' break the camera on the northern part of the building. That will keep the guard away for some time. Will you manage to disable the security alarm during this time?"

"I think so. Does anyone know what kind of security alarm is this?" asked Neal, showing the photo.

"Yeah. I know such system." announced Sammy. "As much as I hate working with Caffrey, I'll help him. But just for the record, I despise you Caffrey. "

"Your problem. Moving on. Sammy and I will disable the alarm and let the rest into the house. The house will be in our possession. Safe is mine."

At this moment Prince showed up, much to Neal's displeasure. But Neal ignored his feelings. They had a job to do and Tim could be a good help.

"It's not wise to get into the building from one entrance." said Jacob. "Rebecca and I will get in through the window on the southern part of the house as soon as you disable the alarm. We'll get out using the same strategy."

"We'll join them." said the twins in unison.

Neal nodded and continued his explanations.

"I know I missed a lot, but where exactly is the mansion situated?" asked Tim, another known as Prince.

"You haven't missed that part. We'll meet here and go there together. I don't want anyone to know the address. No offence, guys." replied Neal.

The rest of the day, the teenagers were busy with making the last arrangements. Now Neal was truly in a high position. He was giving orders and others were obliged to fulfill them. Towards the end of the evening Kate came. Neal told her about their heist and was glad to see her approval.

"Neal, is it the same house we were…" whispered Kate.

The teenager only nodded. Kate looked at him for a couple of seconds and the kiss that followed only confirmed that Neal wasn't wrong when he decided to do this.

The next day everything was ready. Kate told him earlier that she would meet them there. Of course Neal wasn't thrilled with the news. But there wasn't any time to drown in emotions. They had a job to do. But there still was something that Neal worried about. Jacob and Rebecca arrived late. It was only five minutes, but it unnerved Neal to no end.

On their way to the mansion, the gang revised the plan.

"And remember, guys. We'll be fine as long as we stick together." said Neal, before turning around the corner and leading the group towards the house.

Finally they were there. According to the original plan they were supposed to be inside the house already. Well, there was nothing they could do now. A few seconds and they would be taking their places. But at that moment the sounds of the sirens filled the whole block. A few seconds more and cops' cars were surrounding the house. Everything happened too quickly for Neal to understand what was happening. He looked around. There was nobody left, except for the cops, who were getting out of the cars.


	6. On watch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Please, don't hate me!I've been rewriting this chapter for three times, no kidding!Hope this chapter won't sound forced!  
> I want to thank you guys for your patience! Next chapter is half-written, so it WILL BE UP SOON!

… _at that moment the sounds of the sirens filled the whole block. A few seconds more and cops' cars were surrounded the house. Everything happened too quickly for Neal to understand what was happening. He looked around. There was nobody left, except for the cops, who were getting out of the cars._

For the first time in a few weeks Neal stopped feeling like he was invincible. For the first time in a few months he was truly scared. No thoughts passed his mind. Time seemed to stop or at least it seemed to be crawling with a pace of a dying tortoise. Neal thought that a few hours passed, when in reality it had been only a couple of seconds. The teenager was just standing there, dreading the thought of what might happen next. He started closing his eyes and at the same time felt someone's hand grabbing his shoulder and pulling him away. From that moment, time gained its usual pace and although Neal still couldn't quite catch up with everything that was happening, his mind registered the fact that he was saved. And his savior was still half-dragging him through the streets of New York.

"What the hell, Caffrey?" asked the boy, when they were finally far enough.

Neal instantly recognized his voice. It was Prince. What in the world was he doing there saving Neal's ass?

"Where's everyone? We were supposed to stick together… What if the others got caught?" asked Neal in alarm.

"When things go south, it's every man for himself. Thought you knew that."

The fog in Neal's head was slowly clearing away and everything was coming back to him. Events that happened no longer than an hour ago for some reason became distant memories.

"Cops were talking about an anonymous call." said Prince, trying to look Neal in the eyes. "You know who the snitch is, don't you?"

Neal tried to persuade himself that there was no way for somebody to rat them out. Neal was the only person who knew the exact location of the house. He was the only one who knew the whole plan. But there was one "but". At the time when cops came they were supposed to be in the house. That way all of them would have got caught red-handed. And someone was aware of that. The only thing that saved them was the fact that they got to the mansion later than it was originally planned.

That very moment everything started to make sense. Neal finally looked the ugly witch, that we all usually call truth, in the eyes. Realization that he was betrayed was far worse than the betrayal itself. You believe every sweet lie without hesitation. That is until all the facts, of which you were subconsciously aware of, come together and this time you can't ignore the truth anymore. It slaps you in the face and hits you. Hard.

Kate. Kate knew the address. Kate knew the whole plan. She didn't come to their gathering place and said she would meet them at the mansion. Only now Neal understood that she wasn't going to come at all. She must have been planning this from the beginning. She was the one who showed Neal June's house. She was the one who dropped a hint about the robbery. Neal believed her. He trusted her. But all this time she was just playing with him. Deep inside he always had doubts about their so called relationship. He kept pushing those thoughts aside, though.

Neal was angry and disgusted. But those emotions weren't turned towards Kate. Those feelings were dedicated to Neal himself and to his own stupidity. How many times had people told him Kate was no good for him? How many times he saw with his own eyes that she didn't care about him? How many times she openly made fun of him? He decided to ignore everything and everyone. He didn't even listen to himself. Neal was blind… No, it was just another excuse. He wasn't blind. He suspected that there was something bad going on, but refused to open his eyes and make sure of it.

Now he was paying the price. If Tim hadn't showed up in time, Neal would be sitting in jail right now. And that would be the best case scenario. All of the guys could have gotten caught. That wasn't acceptable. Neal was the mastermind of the operation. He was supposed to protect them, not to lead them straight into the trap.

"It's not your fault."

Hearing Tim's voice, Neal looked up. The other boy was standing next to him. To tell the truth, Neal was surprised that he was still there. They weren't friends. They couldn't even have one conversation without getting into an argument. Yet, Prince was the only one who helped Neal.

"You can't feel guilty because someone betrayed you." continued Tim casually. "We all get what we deserve. She is no exception."

Neal didn't ask Tim how he knew it was Kate, because it didn't matter. Tim's words helped Neal a bit. It didn't mean he would miraculously stop thinking about this mess, but at least he knew someone was on his side.

The young con doubted there were people left who still believed in him. Just the previous day he knew he could count on Peter and El for support. Now he didn't know if they could forgive him after everything he did… _for_ everything he had done. All this time he was constantly driving Peter crazy and to make matters worse he had been rude to El. He didn't even return home last night…

"See you tomorrow then." said Tim, interrupting Neal's train of thought once again.

Neal nodded in reply, not trusting himself with a verbal answer. He didn't want to be left alone, but he couldn't make Tim stay either.

"Or you can come with me."

Tim seemed eager to pull Neal away from his own musings. Or maybe he was just enjoying interrupting his process of trying to understand the situation. Probably there was nothing to understand. Some things are not meant to be thought about. Coming to a more or less logical conclusion, Neal decided to put his pride aside and accepted Prince's invitation. And why shouldn't he? After all, he had nowhere to go.

Apartment, which Tim and his parents occupied, was far from being simple and modest. Surely, it couldn't be compared with June's mansion or even the place where Sammy lived, but it was quite nice. Neal didn't know why he was surprised to see something like that at first. Tim never looked like a street guy, who had nowhere to go. They even went to school together. The young con realized that he never thought about the reasons why Tim joined Kate's gang. He clearly didn't need any extra cash.

The evening was agonizingly long. Conversation didn't go as smoothly as both of the boys would have wanted it to go. Nevertheless, Neal wouldn't want to be anywhere else. As night wrapped its arms around the city and Tim's parents didn't show up, Neal couldn't keep his curiosity to himself.

"Mom went to Washington for a few days and my Dad… He works a lot. When I go to bed, he's still not home. When I wake up, he's already gone. He doesn't have time for me."

Neal watched silently as a person, whom Neal didn't even consider to be his good acquaintance a couple of hours ago, was opening his soul in front of him. All of this would have made Neal rethink what a term 'true friendship' meant. It even would have made him rethink what he could call an honest relationship. But it didn't. Not at that moment. Maybe he would give a thought to such things in the future. But not now, when nothing makes sense and when each and every of the known and unknown emotions are mixed into a horrible cocktail.

"When I was a kid, Dad would sometimes play with me and all the while he would glance at that stupid watch of his. He never took it off, you know. It is always there as a reminder of something more important than his own family…Then he got a promotion or something and he promised he would _make_ time for me. I can't even count how many times I used to sit in the park, waiting for him. I still hate parks. Children are always there with their parents and I was there alone."

All of this was said in a reserved tone, but Neal noticed how Tim looked away for a second, as if to regain his composure. Neal saw and understood the motion because he always acted like that himself. Although the teenager wasn't in the mood to share his feelings, a few seconds later he found himself speaking. He wasn't sure why he decided to tell what he was telling Tim. Somehow it felt right. It was the perfect moment for a conversation like that, if there ever had been such a thing as a "perfect moment".

"At least you know him. You know what he looks like. You know how his voice sounds. You know what his touch feels like. You know that he cares. Everything he does, he does it for you and your happiness. I never had a chance to get to know my father like that."

"It has to be easier for you then. You can't miss what you never had."

That dreaded silence was there once again. Neal couldn't bring himself to saying any words of sympathy. He couldn't argue with Tim on this subject either. The young con never regarded this topic in such light. In a way it was true. He didn't miss his father. He missed the idea of having him. He did miss his mother, though. Those vivid memories of her still haunted him.

"One day I had this crazy idea. I thought that if only somebody took away Dad's wrist watch, he would forget about time and finally remember about me. It's not a crime to steal from a thief, is it? Time stole my Dad from me. Clocks and watches are Time's middlemen, so…"

And again silence hang above the room. That's when Neal realized that ticking from the clock couldn't be heard in Tim's room. His hatred towards time must run really deep. That's why Prince stole mostly watches…

"Hey, Tim… Thanks for telling me this."

"It wasn't a secret. Nobody cared enough to ask before." shrugged the boy, looking Neal right in the eyes – something that comforted and scared Neal at the same time.

If Prince had a chance, he always tried to look a person in the eyes. That look was calm, but not spiritless. Tim was attentive. He seemed to notice every single detail. The most peculiar thing about this boy was that with all this knowledge Tim didn't try to understand people and their motives. He just didn't judge anybody. He didn't try to be friends with each and every one either.

Their conversation didn't go any further. Neal actually was rather grateful for that. Finally he had some time to think. And that night there were a lot of things to think about.

The next morning Neal woke up to Tim getting ready to go to school, a place where Neal hadn't showed up for a couple of days. Mr. Parson had probably already called Burkes. Peter would kill him for… No, he wouldn't. It's time to forget about the Burkes. They deserved better than him. Neal told himself he was happy about the current situation. It was a part of the plan in the first place.

A plan… He never had a plan. He saw Kate, lost his head and that's when things went out of control. Neal had thoughts about trying to make Peter and El get rid of him earlier, especially after Peter got stabbed because of him. But those thoughts never made it to the point where they would have become a proper plan.

Neal left with Tim but headed in the opposite direction. After everything that happened Neal hadn't learnt his lesson and was still acting driven by his emotions. The only difference was that this time it wasn't 'love', but guilt. If everything he had done concerned only him, it would have been fine. But he wasn't that lucky. There were people, who could have gotten… actually they _did_ get into a huge mess.

Neal felt like there was a fog forming in his brain. It wasn't enough that his thoughts weren't clear, but the fog was also slowly getting inside his ears. Soon it was in front of his eyes and after that his whole body felt numb. Stress-induced situations are very dangerous and can lead to serious problems if not right after they happened, then some time later.

Fortunately, nothing bad happened. Neal noted sadly that it wasn't the first time he had been in such state of mind. He had to change his way of living and he had to it as soon as possible. Otherwise there was a huge fat chance to go crazy. If he got arrested and sent to juvie, he would at least have a ray of hope, promising he would get out of there sooner or later. But getting into loony bin was a worse prospect.

The teenager understood that guys were furious with him. He doubted if should go to their usual place and try to explain what had happened. It was going to be difficult, considering the fact that Neal wasn't going to rat Kate out. The young con had a clear vision of what kind of people he was dealing with. Those guys were nothing like Keller or other major players, but when they stayed together they were a big force. They would easily tear Kate apart, if they knew what she did. Kate betrayed Neal, but he was not willing to betray her.

"What the hell happened, Caffrey? Decided to get us all off the streets once and for all?!"

Just as Neal expected the gang was pissed with him. Guys surrounded the young con, waiting for explanations and at the same time ready to give him a good beating.

"Guys, listen… I never expected cops to show up. You know I would never…"

"We're not stupid." interrupted Jacob, holding Rebecca's hand firmly. "Cops don't just appear from thin air. It's clear as a day: someone called them. The question is who?"

"I honestly don't know…"

"Cut the crap, you little scammer!" barked Toby. "You screwed us all!"

Neal tried one more time to get out of the current situation without getting a couple of broken ribs. No success. To tell the truth, Neal didn't wait for any other outcome. Guys were surrounding him and the teenager felt as helpless as ever. He wasn't going to give up, of course. But chances that he would win were as thin as a rake.

"There wasn't a snitch, guys." said a voice, just when Neal closed his eyes, getting ready for a punch from Sammy. The young con turned around to see that his hearing didn't betray him and it was indeed Prince who saved him. Again.

"I heard the cops saying there was a burglary at a store. The one that's right across the street from the mansion. They were there not because of us." said Tim with his usual casualty and calmness.

After heated discussion it was decided to let Caffrey off the hook. He wasn't at fault, so there was no need for the consequences. Although Neal walked away with all of his organs in place, he understood that now everyone would be cautious, when dealing with him. So much for a good reputation…

Neal was roaming the streets. A lot had happened and changed, but the result was always the same. He was back on the street with nowhere to go and nobody to rely on. Only this time it was his entire fault.

* * *

The first night Neal didn't come home, Peter was frustrated and El was worried. She knew it wasn't her fault the boy left, but she couldn't help but think about their argument in the morning. Elizabeth hadn't told Peter about that. There was no need to add fuel to the fire. Peter on the other hand was more angry than worried this time. He was tired of Neal constantly running away. Peter made up his mind. Once he got his hands on Neal, he would put a stop to such behavior. And this time it would be a permanent result.

The next day wasn't any better. As evening drew closer El heard Peter rushing into the house.

"There was a police report a couple of hours ago. An anonymous call informed the police that a group of teenagers was planning a burglary. Suspects fled the scene." said the agent quickly, taking his warmer coat.

"You think Neal was there?" asked El.

"Yeah… And I have a gut feeling that Adler's daughter has something to do with it. I'm going to look for Neal, hon."

When Peter met Mozzie half way to the mansion, the agent wasn't surprised at all. He silently let the short guy into his car and they continued on their way. Peter was grateful for Mozzie's presence. They haven't been on good terms the last couple of weeks. But when it came to Neal they could put all of their differences and controversies aside. After examining the supposed crime scene, Peter got back into the Taurus and headed towards the house, where he had never been before but knew its inhabitants more than he would like.

During all this time Mozzie didn't say anything. He studied the fed and probably for the first time in his life, he felt sorry for Suit. Peter looked older than his age. His features didn't show anger or frustration. He was just tired. As they were getting closer to Adler's house, Mozzie felt panic rushing through his veins. Maybe Peter was tired, but he definitely wasn't lost. He could do things he would regret later…

"Wait in the car." said Peter, getting out into the cold night.

"Peter, don't make a permanent decision for your temporary emotion." replied the short guy.

The older man nodded. Calmness and determination were the rulers of his mind, no matter what others thought. He was in total control of the situation. He had to be. Otherwise, there was no use to even try and do anything.

"Agent Burke! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Vincent assumed that Burke might make an appearance. Nevertheless, he was sure it would happen later, rather than sooner. Adler was taken aback by such sudden visit. He gained his composure in a matter of seconds and more pleasant thoughts took over. His plan worked and he had to thank his daughter for a brilliant execution.

"Just came to see living proof of my theory. There're a few things that a person either has from the moment he is born, or he will never get them at all. In your case it's a sense of shame." replied Peter as calmly as the situation allowed.

"Agent Burke…"

"Stay away from my family, Adler."

Vincent looked closely at the agent and let a small smile crawl onto his face.

"Ah, I see what your problem is. Agent Burke, or may I call you Peter? Our children are our joy and happiness, but sometimes they can bring us so much trouble. And some children are trouble themselves."

Seeing that Peter was starting to breathe more often and his hands were clenched into fists, Adler understood that his words hit home. He needed Peter to lose his cool. It would be easier to get rid of him then. Just imagine what a great story it would make: FBI hires emotionally unstable people.

"Take my daughter for example. She's an angel – I don't want to sound boastful, but good bringing up does wonders. What I'm implying is that even good kids like my Katie can be difficult to deal with. But unlike most of the parents I can take control of the situation." summed up Adler, leaning on the door frame. Vincent was enjoying the situation. It was better than he imagined. Peter was worried and frustrated with his puppy, while his own daughter was at home. Hearing something, he turned around and looked back into the house. Peter got his attention back in a matter of seconds, though.

"You know, children are meant to be kept on a short leash when they are young and unexperienced. Kids are not flowers or angels. They're selfish little monsters, who will have you wrapped around their fingers in no time as soon as you show them a hint of weakness. Some kids are simply uncontrollable, no matter whether they're kept in an iron grip or not. I suppose genetics is all we can blame in those cases. Blood is not water, you know."

Peter didn't answer. He didn't agree with Adler, but the conman's words were true to a certain extent. Children aren't born disciplined and well-behaved. It's parents' job to keep them in line.

Vincent watched Peter closely. The agent was clearly listening to him. Moreover, he was thinking everything over. That wasn't a reaction he wanted to see from Burke.

"Too much influence is also a bad thing." went on Adler casually. "At school our children are taught in a completely different manner. Then they come home and are expected to do other things. And friends, oh, _that_ influence is the most disastrous one." Vincent shifted his eyes away from the agent and now was looking somewhere in the distance.

Peter turned around, hearing footsteps behind him, his eyes followed Adler's gaze. Mozzie made an appearance with the level of unexpectedness, as only he could master. For a second Peter thought Mozzie himself was surprised at being exactly where he was.

"Thank you for attention. Please, carry on." said the short guy, getting out of sight and leaving two men dumbfounded for a second or two.

"That's exactly what I'm talking about!" said Vincent, pointing at Mozzie. "It's amazing what freedom can do with people, isn't it?"

"Yeah, some people can't just live in peace." agreed Peter.

The agent knew that both of them were discussing the same topic but meaning different things. Adler, no doubt, was talking about Neal and Mozzie, while Peter meant Adler.

"My point exactly. It doesn't matter how much you try, he won't do as you want. There are too many interesting things for him to do than sitting by your side. My advice, let him go."

Vincent decided to get straight to the point. All of his biting comments were going unnoticed by Burke. He had to get agent's attention. That puppy of his was going to bring Burke an early death. But the conman knew Peter wouldn't just give up on Caffrey. And while they were sorting out their so called 'family issues', Adler would have time to finally get down to real work.

"Follow your own advice, Adler." said Peter.

Adler was grateful when Burke finally left. On the one hand, Vincent knew that he managed to buy himself some time. But on the other hand, Adler finally understood what kind of person Peter really was. Adler understood that he only won a battle, not a war. But it was still a nice step forward. The game was getting more and more exciting. Entering his office, Adler cast a glance at his table. Before Burke came he was examining the zibeline. Where was it now? He must have put it back into the safe. Lately he was quite inattentive. The map was still on the table though. Vincent took it and shaking his head buried it under the papers in one of the drawers. The map was so unprecise. How was he going to solve this puzzle?

* * *

Mozzie saw Suit turning around and marching back to the car. The short guy quickly hid his 'come-by-chance' discovery in the pocket of his jacket and put on an innocent face. Not that it was necessary, as Peter's mind was preoccupied with other thoughts.

"What in the world were you doing there, Haversham?" asked the agent.

"Walking. Fresh air is good for me."

Peter didn't press the matter further. And Mozzie was grateful for that. He wasn't in a mood for inventing stories about why he appeared in front of Adler's house when he was supposed to stay in the car. Mozzie wouldn't have told Peter the truth even if he was promised to be given information about some of the most secret government issued experiments of all times.

And the truth was that Mozzie noticed that the alarm in Adler's house was turned off for some reason. Adler himself was engrossed in the conversation with Suit and one of the windows was opened. Mozzie felt like Cinderella who had a chance to go to the ball. No, that is an awful comparison, strike this one out. He felt like Clark Kent. He was fast and nobody knew that he was the real hero. One second and he got into the house. It wasn't hard to identify this room as Vincent's office.

Mozzie's first instinct was to rush to the safe, but a small sparkling object, which was lying at the table, caught his attention. Mozzie studied the object and came to a conclusion that it was only a half of… well, something. It was some kind of a necklace or maybe it was a part of a trinket. But it really didn't matter, because it was incrusted with gems and he could probably sell it for quite a sum.

While getting out of the window, Mozzie almost dropped a vase but managed to keep it in place and soon he was back on the street. Being in haste he took another turn and instead of getting directly to Peter's Taurus, Mozzie found himself right under Adler's nose. To make matters worse, Suit noticed him as well. Both men looked irritated but they kept distance from each other, which meant Mozzie's services in helping to stop a fist fight weren't needed. That's why the short guy tried to get out of there as quickly and as quietly as possible.

Now Peter was back and he was slowly driving around the city. Mozzie didn't start any conversations and kept looking out of the window in hopes to find Neal. He was a bit sad about what was going on with his young friend, but his new 'discovery' warmed his soul.

* * *

Another day passed. And another. And one more. Elizabeth couldn't keep her emotions in check anymore and Peter was seriously getting worried about her health. He wasn't in the best shape himself but kept a straight face and tried to be strong for the sake of his family. Although the chances of finding Neal were slim, the Burkes didn't give up on their plan. During one of those days Aviana came with all of her tests, claiming that both of them were more than ready. Jones and his college buddy did an amazing job with all the necessary documentation and now the process was getting ready to be finalized. Peter even visited Neal's school and had a long nice chat with the principal, who reluctantly agreed to help.

It's been six days since Neal left. Every evening after having dinner with El, Peter got in his car and went for the search. The first couple of days he was thoroughly searching the city, stopping at every corner and walking into every shop. Some of the agents at the Bureau knew what happened and were helping Peter. But all of this was in vain. Even Mozzie with his street contacts couldn't find Neal.

Peter got into Taurus and closed the door softly. He sat there without moving for some time before turning on the ignition. He drove around the city hoping to find Neal, but not really expecting to. Soon the agent heard his phone ringing.

"Burke."

"Boss, you know that park at West End Towers?" said Diana's voice.

"The one that takes up an entire block between 63rd and 64th Streets?"

"That's the one. You might find something interesting there."

"Don't go near him, Diana. I'll take care of it."

Peter didn't hear the rest of agent Berrigan's words. Emotional numbness left Peter as soon as he turned the car around and rushed to the said address. Just a few minutes later he saw Neal. Relief washed over Peter and he went closer to the teenager.

Neal was sitting on a bench, looking down at his feet. He seemed not to notice how Peter took a seat beside him. But soon enough the agent's theory was proven to be wrong.

"Hey, Peter." said Neal quietly, raising his blue eyes and looking at the older man.

"Hey, Neal."

Silence followed. Peter waited for Neal to say something, but when it was clear that the teenager wasn't going to spill the beans, the agent took matters into his own hands.

"Is that all you wanted to say?" asked Peter, not raising his voice.

Neal nodded and the next second he felt being pulled up to his feet. Peter was unceremoniously dragging Neal to the car.

"Let me go!"

"Shut it." barked the agent suddenly. That had a desired effect on Neal and he didn't dare open his mouth until both of them were in the car.

"Don't do it, Peter! You have no idea what I've done!"

"Oh, I have a pretty good idea of what you've done. And looks like the place you've been all this time didn't have a shower."

Neal was unnerved by Peter's calm voice. He wasn't shouting, he wasn't scolding him… Looked like Peter didn't care what happened. The teenager felt like he was just a toy. That's it. Peter was keeping him around only for the sake of his own image.

While Neal stared at Peter silently, the agent continued.

"Seriously, Neal…"

"How can you be so calm, agent Burke? I've been acting out for the past two months and you didn't do anything! I've lied to you, I was rude, and I've done a tone of illegal staff and, and…" Neal's voice was getting hoarse from shouting. Anger was slowly turning into realization, and realization brought shame.

Peter was calmly driving towards their Brooklyn house and waited until Neal stopped talking. The teenager's breathing was uneven and noisy.

"Ashamed?" asked the agent, casting a glance in Neal's direction.

"YES! Ashamed! Happy now? I let my friends down. I didn't even see who my real friends were. I let you down. I let myself down. I should have taken care of myself, but I hoped you'd be there for me. But you weren't there, Peter. You didn't stop me…"

Peter parked the car and looked at Neal, giving the boy his undivided attention.

"Get into the house." was Peter's patient answer.

"NO!"

"Now, Neal."

"Who do you think you are? You can't boss me around!"

The agent had had enough. He went out and opening the door grabbed Neal by his ear and pulled him into the house. Needless to say there was a lot of cussing coming from the teenager, but Peter turned a deaf ear on that. Shutting the door firmly behind them, Peter turned towards Neal. None of them noticed Elizabeth, who appeared from upstairs.

"Tomorrow morning we're going to school. Principal Parson is eager to see you. While you were _away,_ your friend Roger got caught on trying to forge a signature. He told the Principal all about your so called business." Peter was looking at Neal, but the teenager was trying to avoid the older man's gaze at all cost. "We'll discuss this issue in detail tomorrow, but I don't want you to be near this Roger. You two are bound to get in trouble."

"Roger is my best friend! You can't just make me stop being friends with him! Fu…"

"Finish that sentence and I'll wash out your mouth with soap." interrupted Peter sternly.

"He'll do it, Neal."

The teenager turned around to see El, standing right behind him. He felt trapped between two Burkes, who looked as determined as ever. Neal turned around to go upstairs. He knew that one more minute like this and he'd say something he would regret later. But Peter had other plans.

"Cowboy up and own up to your mistakes, buddy. We can't help you until you're willing to admit that you have a problem." said the agent, putting a hand on the teenager's shoulder and effectively holding him in place.

"Maybe I do have some problems. But they are not as major as you think they are. It's you who constantly thinks I'm some troubled kid. Sorry to disappoint, Peter, I'm not!"

"Finally. That's exactly what I wanted to hear from you. You're not troubled. Stop acting like that."

"I do what I want."

"Then it's time someone stops you."

"You can't. You're not my father, Peter! You're nobody to me!"

Neal didn't see the look of shock and hurt on Peter's face. He didn't hear El's reprimand, as he brushed past her. He didn't think about what he said. He was tired and wanted to sleep more than anything else. He just didn't care about anything. Tomorrow. He would solve all of his problems tomorrow.

Peter watched as Neal stormed away from the room. He didn't stop the boy. He couldn't. The agent would rather burn alive than hear such words from Neal. He understood that Neal hadn't meant that… No, he _hoped_ Neal hadn't meant that.

"Tomorrow, Peter. We'll get this done and over with tomorrow."

Peter let El's soothing voice and soft arms take away all the emotional pain. Tomorrow. They'll think about it tomorrow.

* * *

The day they all have been waiting for came and brought more problems. After the meeting with the principal Neal felt worse than ever. His latest stunts got him suspended for two weeks. And if it wasn't for Peter he might have gotten expelled. Neal noticed that the principal acted differently. He wasn't accusing Peter of anything and it was just weird, considering what happened the last time they saw each other… Or maybe Neal didn't know everything.

Time flew fast and soon it was noon. The teenager was surprised to hear Peter's voice booming from downstairs.

"Family meeting. Now."

When the young con didn't come down a few minutes later, he heard the agent's voice once again.

"This means you too, Neal!"


	7. Off the clock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I apologise for the long wait, but I really hope that this long chapter will make up for it. Thank you for all the reviews and PMs! Keep them up and enjoy this chapter.

Coming down to the living room Neal tried to make out every sound. He had to admit, Peter's voice sounded serious and that if not scared, then at least made Neal conscious. Elizabeth was sitting on the couch with Peter standing right next to her. Both Burkes had those determined expressions, to which Neal was getting used to.

"Sit."

Neal obeyed Peter instantly. Peter looked down at his wife and getting a soft, reassuring smile, took a deep breath. The agent took out his phone and turned it off. That motion alone made Neal's eyes pop out of his head. Peter never, not under any circumstances turned off his phone. And then another thing happened. Neal was sure it was going to snow with bright purple snow that day, because Peter was taking off his wrist watch. Peter laid the watch on the table not loud enough to call it "slamming", but not gentle enough to simply say "put". When Neal tore his eyes away from Peter's watch, he saw the agent in his usual "business pose" – hands on hips, straight back, a bit tense shoulders and eyes that seemed to see all at once.

Suddenly the teenager remembered Tim's story. A few memories of his own passed Neal's mind at the same moment. He didn't give it a thought before, but Peter really depended on time as well. Even when they were listening to Beauchamp's story, Peter was glancing at his watch every other minute. The agent always expected someone to call and he was ready to spring to his feet any second.

"You've got your cellphone?"

"Yes, Peter…"

"Turn it off. I won't have anything interrupting this discussion."

No place for doubts was left now. Doors were locked, phones were turned off and watches put aside – Peter was getting ready for a very serious talk. Neal felt Satchmo lay down at his feet. The teenager smiled at the dog when their eyes met. At least he had Satchmo on his side.

Peter took one more deep breath - a habit that he was sure was obtained because of Neal. Clearing his throat loudly and finally getting everyone's attention, Peter spoke up.

"It has waited long enough, so I'm not going to beat around the bush. Ever since you came to live with us we tried everything we could to get you on straight and narrow. We tried to understand you, to be patient. After some of your shenanigans I tried lecturing and punishing you. And I honestly thought we made some progress. I believed _you_ made progress. But the last two months proved me to be wrong. While you thought we didn't notice anything, you were the only topic of our conversations. After some serious consideration we came to a conclusion that this can't go on. We're done, Neal."

The teenager in question looked at Peter. His eyes were wide open and horror was written across his face. He finally did it. Burkes were sending him away. Neal felt tears coming up to his throat, yet he couldn't cry. He wanted to yell that it was unfair and that he deserved one more chance. But Peter was right. They gave him more than enough chances and he blew them all. Neal knew he deserved it, but it still hurt no less. All this time he was sure Peter wouldn't give up on him. He was sure of El's unconditional love…

"Eyes up. I'm not done talking to you."

Peter didn't think he was being harsh, that is until Neal raised his watery eyes and looked at him. However, the agent managed to put all of the sentiments aside. It wasn't a matter of a choice now – he had to be firm.

"We think we've found the root of all evil, though. Fortunately, we've also managed to come up with a solution."

Peter glanced at El and she immediately put a paper folder on the coffee table. She never imagined that something like this would be carried out in such way.

"Sign the papers, Neal." said Peter, sliding a pen across the table towards the teenager.

Neal took the folder with shaking hands. That was it. They were throwing him out. They were throwing him out like a damned puppy into the rain. Traitors! All of them. How could he trust people after all of this? They said they cared. They promised to be there for him regardless of the circumstances. How could they be so cruel? The whole world was against him now. Nothing new then. Neal was used to being alone. He would get over all of this sooner or later. But it was still so unfair! Traitors! Liars!

While trying to open the folder, Neal felt his heart beating so fast his chest began to ache. The teenager wanted to scream but found no strength to do so. He fumbled with the string on the folder for what it seemed to be hours until he finally managed to open it. That very second his heart stopped, at least what it felt like. Neal only had time to glance at the top of the front page before another wave of emotions swept him away.

He couldn't hold back tears anymore and now they were freely running down his flushed cheeks. Every organ in his body seemed to shrink and after that suddenly everything seemed to enlarge inside of him and Neal was ready to explode. His whole being was shaking and it was getting hard to breathe. How could they?! Angrily wiping the tears away with his sleeve, Neal furiously looked up at the agent.

"Sign."

Neal never thought one word could bring so many emotions. It hurt. It hurt so much, both physically and mentally, when he looked at Peter's stern face. Neal took the pen slowly and stared down at the papers in front of him.

"Don't I have a say in this?" Neal asked, his voice barely rising above whisper. Swallowing back the tears, he looked at Elizabeth, who only nodded towards the papers.

El wanted to say something, to calm Neal down, to wrap him in her arms. But she knew better. They made a decision and now they had to make sure they carried it out, no matter how hard it could be.

"It's supposed to be MY decision! MY choice! You can't just make me do this, Peter!" yelled Neal, with renewed strength and anger.

He wasn't going to just let them do this to him. He had a right to say no. Neal understood that arguing wouldn't help his case in the least. The feeling of being trapped like a caged animal was growing stronger and stronger. And now somebody started drumming on the metallic pipes in his head. The boy squeezed his eyes to stop the room from spinning. A couple of minutes later he found himself staring at Peter once again.

"This is our last conversation on this topic, Neal. I won't repeat this again. Sign the papers."

"Or what?"

"There is no "or" in this. _We_ don't have a choice, Neal. We'll stay here until you sign."

Neal dropped his gaze back to the papers in front of him. This was so unreal. No, no, no… This couldn't be happening, not to him. The teenager tried to even his breathing, while picking up the pen and putting his signature at the bottom of one of the pages.

"And one more signature at the last page." prompted Peter softly.

Neal did so. There, it was done. Neal braced himself and looked up at the agent.

"Well done, son."

"Peter…"

"Dad." corrected Peter and smiled. "Now I'm your Dad and I expect you to address me as such."

Neal looked at the agent as if he had grown not only a second head but a tail as well. The stern firmness disappeared from his face and now Peter was smiling. For the first time during this whole time Elizabeth spoke up. Her voice was soft and had a special ring to it. It was weird in a way: Peter's face showed the same emotion as El's voice.

"And I am Mom." said the woman, tapping her hand softly on her chest. "Mom." repeated Elizabeth with a relieved sigh.

"Don't you guys think you're taking this a bit too fast? Seriously, Peter…" tried Neal to argue.

"Dad." came the agent's reply.

Neal couldn't help himself. He wasn't sure why he got so frustrated but unfortunately he did.

"Why don't you change my last name as well, while you're at it?"

"That's the spirit!" praised Peter, ignoring Neal's attitude.

Peter went on saying something about the process of adoption not being yet completed and that they still had some papers to collect and some tests to go through, but Neal wasn't listening. Rage and frustration were fading and warmth was spreading through his veins. Neal was exhausted. Now that the emotions were leaving him alone, he felt like he had completed a marathon across the Sahara desert. The teenager still wasn't sure what had just happened. One thing was clear, though. His life was going to change. And this time it was going to be a real change.

"We are family, Neal. And whether you like it or not, you're not going to change that. You're not alone anymore. Yes, you've lived through a lot of horrible moments but you should leave the past in the past. That, actually, can also be addressed to me. Every time you do something to annoy me, I remind you of all the sins. I assure you that it won't happen again. We are starting fresh. Forget the mistakes, remember the lessons."

"Mozzie is starting to rub off on you, Pet… I mean, _Dad_." replied Neal.

Calling Peter Dad was strange. And although Neal pronounced the word with the highest level of annoyance as he could master, it still felt completely outrageously uncomfortable.

"Not only Mozzie can quote wise people." retorted Peter. "My Dad always said that after dealing with my transgressions. By the way, if you ever put on something even remotely close to this latest 'concert', I'll be forced to introduce you to some of our family's traditions."

Neal looked wide-eyed at the agent as he pulled off his belt and with a loud smack put it on the coffee table right in front of Neal's nose, making the teen jump in surprise.

"And this is not a threat, son. It's a promise."

"You're not serious, are you?" asked Neal quietly.

"Deadly. And you know I always keep my promises."

"But… But… It's illegal!"

"As long as it's not abuse, I can do whatever I need to do to discipline you. Don't force my hand and we'll be fine." replied Peter calmly.

"Well, in that case I'm going to France. I heard there are more strict laws about parents 'disciplining' their children."

"I can't see why not, buddy. You can always go there to study. I heard there are great Universities. But I heard your French, how do you youngsters say it… Ah, yes. Stinks."

"Unbelievable! I'm plotting my escape right in front of your nose and you see it as opportunity to give me education." grumbled Neal. "Still not fair. I didn't know about _those traditions_ when you made me sign the adoption papers."

"You made the choice yourself." answered Peter and catching Neal's look added. "We only helped you to see that it was the right decision."

"El?!" Neal decided to turn for help to a more adequate person in the room.

"Mom. Now you can call me Mom." answered Elizabeth still smiling.

Seeing that none of this was taking him anywhere, Neal looked down and saw that Satchmo was also gone. Instead of being on Neal's side and trying to protect him, the dog was traitorously standing beside Peter. Moreover, Satchmo somehow managed to bring the agent his slipper. The same slipper that Peter threatened Neal with the first time he was caught eavesdropping. The teenager groaned, but couldn't resist the smile that was making its way to his face.

"You were supposed to be on my side, Satch!"

"He _is_ on your side. We all are." replied Peter. "And while we're at it, I should probably mention that there are no sides at all in this situation. We are a family, Neal. There are no sides and there never will be."

Hearing this made Neal realise that it truly was the point of no return. No sides. No sides at all.

"Congratulations, son." said Peter, pulling Neal to his feet and patting him on the back, before wrapping him in a proper embrace.

Before Neal could relax and submit to his feelings he was pulled for another hug by El. It felt good. Neal wasn't thinking straight before that, but now he couldn't think at all.

Soon after that, too soon for Neal's liking, Peter was back to his usual self. Now that his phone was turned back on, he was looking through some messages. A few minutes after that, he announced that he had to go back to work. Neal watched carefully as the agent put back on his watch. That look didn't go unnoticed by Peter and he gave Neal a knowing smile and sent Neal upstairs 'to get to his studies'.

When the teenager was finally in his room, he collapsed on the bed and stared at the ceiling. For some time not a single thought came to his mind. It wasn't new for Neal to feel emptiness but this time it was different. This time everything was different. He couldn't explain it yet, but this emptiness was more like a new clear sheet of paper. Yes it was still empty, but it meant there was an opportunity to draw a new sketch. It wasn't the emptiness that filled you when you felt alone and useless. It wasn't a dark hole on the outskirts of the universe which sucked away your happiness and dreams. It was neither something bad nor good yet. It was just a fresh start. A second chance. Now it was up to Neal what he was going to do with this chance, but he knew that this time he wouldn't be alone.

* * *

For the first time in weeks Peter was glad to be finally heading home. The case he was working on currently was not as easy as he first assumed it to be. On the contrary, a few leads they had on Hutson brought them to dead end. Now that Jones mentioned the social evening which was to take place at the Consulate, Peter had a gut feeling that Hutson wasn't going to miss such an opportunity. The agent knew that it was a long shot but he couldn't simply get rid of those thoughts. Their chances of getting that close to Hutson were growing slim. They had to get permission to get to that evening at the Consulate. First Peter needed to inform Hughes.

Then there always was Adler. A personal matter aside, there still was an unclosed case hanging above their heads. Earlier there was an attempted robbery of Beauchamp's mansion but the owner still hadn't showed up. And the code on side of the fan was yet another mystery. Actually, Peter wasn't sure if it was a code. It could be anything and Beauchamp knew exactly what it was but he clearly decided to withhold that piece of information for the time being.

Turning his car and going down the street that would lead him to his house, Peter pushed all work-related problems away. He was finally going home. He was going to kiss his wife, pet his dog and talk to his son – a perfect calm evening. The agent sighed as the events of the previous weeks ran through his mind. Elizabeth and he had some decisions to make after Peter first met with the principal of the school and also had a chance to talk to Aviana. Speaking of the certain psychologist, Aviana helped them a great deal with all the tests needed for them to get being considered as the possible candidates as Neal's adoptive parents. Neal didn't need to know that, but they were going through hell to get to the point where they were at the moment. The agents from Child Protective Services weren't easy to be dealt with. Those people were doing their job a little too well for Peter's liking. All the paperwork had to impeccable. But they did it. Now that they had Neal's signature they were halfway to their goal. Peter was sure that a few scheduled visits from the CPS weren't going to be the only ones. They could arrive at any time just to get the family by surprise. Nevertheless, now Peter didn't have any doubts that they were going to be just fine. They were ready.

Parking the Taurus in front of the house, Peter took a few steps that were separating him from that perfect evening he had in mind. Smiling to himself, the man started opening the door. Finally some peace and quiet…

" _Répétez : Madame Armal va à la gare._ " said the monotonous female voice, so loudly that Peter thought their neighbours down the street were able to hear that.

Shutting the door behind him, the agent took a few steps and proceeded further into the room. A mere second passed and he heard Neal's voice repeating the phrase. The teenager was speaking as loudly as the woman on the recording, if not louder. Coming closer Peter smiled at the scene in front of him. Neal was sitting at the table in the dining room. In front of him was a laptop, which was the source of the annoying voice of the speaker. There were also a few opened books and sheets of paper, covered with words and sentences in French.

Neal didn't even look up when Peter stopped in front of him for a couple of minutes. The woman's voice filled the room once again. The agent's attention though, fully belonged to Neal. Whoever looked at the boy would say that he really was trying hard to get the pronunciation right. He repeated the sentence loudly and as clearly as he could master. But even Peter, who had little to none knowledge of that particular language left from his own school days, heard just how wrong and messed up was Neal's intonation. The speaker on the recording asked one more time to repeat the unfortunate phrase about Madame Armal and as Neal did so, and in one of the most annoying manners, Peter escaped to the kitchen.

Elizabeth smiled as she felt her husband's strong, yet gentle hands on her shoulders. The woman turned around and gave her beloved a quick kiss, before shifting her attention to the oven, where one of her signature apple pies was getting its sides turned to golden colour. Today was a special occasion. No take-out food could be possibly better than a home-cooked meal, made not only with the best ingredients but with love and care.

"What's up with Neal?" asked Peter, casting a glance towards the teenager, whose recording wasn't getting any quieter. If Peter was a gambler, it would be a safe bet for him to say that the boy turned on the volume even more. "I mean, I'm glad that he decided to learn French. Why he's not doing so in his room though is a mystery to me."

"Acoustics…" replied El, making everything in her power to hide a smile.

"Huh?"

"He said acoustics here was better than in his room. And as he is practicing listening and speaking skills it's important to hear every single sound correctly."

"Acoustics…" mumbled Peter not taking his eyes off of Neal. The boy was in the process of reading yet another phrase. Despite the fact that his voice was already rather hoarse from all the 'exercises', it seemed that he wasn't going to stop any time soon. "El, how long exactly has he been, um, studying?"

"A couple of hours."

"And what? No break? Surely he must be tired. If he doesn't stop this ridiculous shouting activity now, he won't be able to speak for a few days in the least."

"I told him to rest but he said that he was going to work until, and I quote, Dad is home."

"I'd better go talk to him then." answered Peter, chuckling softly.

Peter took his place next to Neal at the table and reached down to pet Satchmo, who was lying on the floor. After that the man picked up one of the books and scanned through the text. Only a couple of words seemed to be familiar.

"Well done, son. As much as I appreciate your initiative, don't you think it's enough for one day?"

"If I want to master my skills as quickly and effectively as possible, I have to work every day for at least seven hours." replied Neal, not turning off the recording and his eyes still glued to his book. "Agathe parle à sa camarade." Neal's voice was so annoyingly high-pitched for some strange reason that the agent did everything in his power not to cringe. The recording stopped and the boy finally tore his eyes away from the book. "It was said that if I study like this I'll be able to learn French in about four months."

"And where did you find this fascinating piece of information?" asked Peter.

"Internet. Where else?" replied Neal, scribbling some notes.

"Hmmm… Wasn't there anything about exhaustion and fatigue?"

"Nope."

Silence followed. Neal was still seemingly engrossed in his notes. Peter watched silently before picking up the book, he was looking through earlier, and continued that activity.

"Four months, you say? Didn't know that was possible. Maybe I should start learning French too. I already know a couple of words. How difficult can it be?" started the agent, ignoring Neal's sudden attention and raised eyebrows. "Then we can go to France together, visit Côte d'Azur…"

Neal was planning to run away to France _from_ Peter and his ridiculous rules, not _with_ the man himself. That was definitely not the part of the plan.

"Ah no, Pete…" catching a pointed look from the agent, Neal did a good job at quickly correcting himself. "I mean, _Dad._ "

After giving it some thought, the teenager came to a conclusion that the idea of calling Peter "dad" wasn't that bad or absurd. It was just too soon in Neal's opinion. Or maybe not… Well, until Neal figured it out, he decided to annoy the agent with the title.

"Why not, son?" asked Peter, before Neal had a chance to open his mouth. The man's voice was calm and steady as he did so.

How did Peter do it? It came out so natural… While Neal was debating whether he was ok with his new situation or not, Peter got adopted to this turn of events much more easily. Gone was the awkward agent who couldn't even be in one room with a kid without breaking a sweat. Neal wanted to sigh in frustration but managed to rein in his emotions. He was supposed to be the chameleon, the master of pretending. Why was it so damn hard to say one word?!

What Neal didn't know was that it really wasn't hard for Peter, because he had time to accept the situation. Truth be told, he didn't even need to accept anything. As soon as he and Elizabeth made the decision to adopt Neal, Peter's paternal instincts were waiting for their turn to show.

"Um, 'cause you have a lot of work to do. You simply don't have seven hours a day to spare for studying."

"Yeah, you're probably right." said Peter. The agent noticed the look of relief on Neal's face but decided not to comment on it. "Speaking of work. You're going with me to the Bureau tomorrow."

Neal held the urge to cry out with excitement. He had to remind himself that he wasn't five years old to be excited to go to work with dear ol' _Dad._ But he couldn't help it. Even though his last 'trip' to the Bureau ended disastrous, Neal liked the atmosphere there. He enjoyed watching all the agents work as one big team and couldn't help but wish to be the part of that team. What would Mozzie say if he heard that?

"Now go put your books away. Dinner is almost ready."

Dinner was a quiet affair, as Neal, who usually made most of the talking, was busy with stuffing food in his mouth. His manners were if not impeccable then at least good, mind you. Although he still had a lot to learn, what he knew and could do was better than most of the children his age could.

Towards the end of the meal, Neal leaned back and not getting his eyes away from Peter and El, drifted to the land of the past by following one his memories. He remembered his first evening with the Burkes. The dinner that day was almost like today, with the only difference that back then they didn't know each other at all. During few months the Burkes had an opportunity to see Neal in all his 'glory'. The teenager shuddered at the thought of how much Peter and El knew about him by now. They've seen him being happy and sad. They took care of him when he got allergies from Mozzie's dissolvent. They've even seen him painting – something that Neal didn't let anyone witness. The Burkes have been there with him during the best of times and the worst of times as well. Neal felt his ears burning when he thought about his latest stunts. He pushed those thoughts away quickly. Peter said that they needed to leave past in the past. So, coming back to the present Neal allowed himself a small smile. Yes, a lot of things changed and a lot of things were about to change, but something was to remain the same. Even after everything that happened, they could still sit together at the table and act… No, and BE comfortable in each other's presence. That very first night Neal wondered if _home_ was supposed to feel like this. Now he knew for sure that it was truly the right feeling.

Hearing a soft knock on the door, Peter made a move to stand up but Elizabeth beat him to it.

"I'm pregnant, not sick, hon!" she said, getting soft giggling from Neal and completely ignoring her husband's worried look.

"Mrs. Suit! Glad to see you flourishing, as always." said Mozzie, smiling and leaning forward. The short guy gently touched El's stomach, as if it was a rare fragile flower. "How are you doing, mini-suits?" asked Mozzie in a whisper. A few moments later, looking as if he received an answer, Mozzie got back into his normal position and stretched, only to bend down again. Only this time he did so in order to take off his boots.

By this time Peter and Neal joined them. Neal kept his eyes downcast as he had no desire to look up and see for himself that Mozzie wasn't pleased with his latest escapades. When the teenager first heard his friend's voice he was immediately up from his seat and rushed to see him, absolutely ignoring Peter's grumblings about manners. Those three short steps he managed to do, however, brought him to reality. From the beginning of the school year and up until now Neal wasn't really on good terms with Mozzie. They didn't have a falling out or anything of the sorts, but Neal was so busy pulling up his 'bad boy' façade that he barely had time for his true and probably only friend. The boy knew that Mozzie would most likely forgive everything; the older guy probably didn't hold a grunge at all. That thought was meant to help Neal to stop feeling so guilty. Unfortunately, that didn't work and now Neal found himself studying the pattern on the wall.

Neal heard how Peter and Mozzie exchanged their reserved greetings and only after that dared to look up. And that happened only because Neal's curiosity took the best of him: why in the world Mozzie, who lately felt himself at home when being at the Burkes', took off his boots? While Neal studied his friend's expression, trying to get any particular reason for his actions and coming to a conclusion that it was just Mozzie being Mozzie, he heard El's soft exclamation. Seconds later the woman darted towards the bathroom, closing her nose. Neal didn't have time to finish his thoughts as he registered the strange stench that filled the room the second Mozzie took off his boots, which Neal was surprised to see, as he was sure they hadn't survived. Neal knew that Mozzie had those boots at least since he first met him and as the teenager hadn't seen those in quite a while, he thought that they were long gone. Then again, the teenager missed quite a lot.

The stench was rather strong not to notice it. Neal's eyes watered and his stomach churned unpleasantly, as soon as he sensed the smell that seemed to be taking over the whole house. The teenager suddenly remembered a dead rat he once saw on the street when he was a kid. The poor animal's body was half-rotten and the horrible stench attracted flies and other insects.

"Haversham, take that stinking bomb of yours and get the hell out of my house!" shouted Peter. "Open the door, for God's sake! This is horrible… I swear, Haversham…"

"I came here for a reason, Suit. And I'm willing to turn on a deaf ear on your ridiculous accusations in order to fulfil my mission." came Mozzie's calm reply.

"You can fulfil your mission outside! Open the damned door!" cried out Peter, opening the door himself and pointing outside.

Neal glanced at the agent with a confused look.

"Go on, already! Take your friend out of here before I have to call enforcements to get rid of this stench." grumbled Peter, marching to open the window. "You can take my gloves. It's chilly out there. You've got half an hour!" called out the agent, being already on his way to check up on Elizabeth.

Taking his coat and all the while ignoring Peter's advice, Neal followed Mozzie outside.

"Moz, what was that?!"

"My boots."

"Why in the world have you decided to take them off? They stink worse than a dead rat!"

"I decided to spare what little strength they have left." retorted Mozzie.

"Why? I thought you got rid of them! They're so old…"

"They are not old, they are loyal. Do have any idea how much it took me to get them in the first place? You won't find anything like this! These boots are of the best Chinese quality!"

After that incident was resolved, the longest two minutes in Neal's life they were walking beside each other in complete silence. The teenager put his hands in pockets, slightly cursing himself for his own stubbornness, as cold wind brushed against his skin.

"Peter makes me call him 'Dad'." Neal surprised himself with blurting out this particular piece of information. The truth was that he hated Mozzie's silent treatment and was desperate to get his attention. The teenager knew his friend too well. Mozzie made the first step and came to talk, but Neal had to start the actual conversation.

"Ah, I take it that you signed the adoption papers. I guess I should congratulate you then." replied Mozzie casually, not taking his eyes off the sidewalk. "El was worried, you know. The process didn't go as smoothly as they hoped." added the older guy as a way of explanation.

Neal glanced at his friend as they continued on their way but didn't say anything at first. In any other circumstances he would be offended by the fact that Mozzie knew about everything and hadn't told him. But considering that Neal was the one who didn't have enough time for his friend, it was only fair for Mozzie to keep silence.

"Isn't it supposed to be the part where you accuse Peter of brainwashing and manipulating me?" asked Neal instead.

Inhaling sharply and coming to an abrupt stop, Mozzie turned to look at Neal. Their eyes met and the short guy was eager to hold that eye contact for as long as he could.

"Sometimes manipulations and threats are the only things that can lead us to the right choice. Honestly, Neal, do you really think that you'll be able to find a better offer? Don't take this for granted, Neal. Do you know how much some children are willing to sacrifice to get that glimmer of hope?"

With that Mozzie resumed walking. He didn't need to look around to know that Neal was following him. Family had always been a sensitive subject for Mozzie. He tried to support his young friend in everything, but that instant he simply couldn't bring himself to do it. As a child Mozzie craved for family and caring parents, hoping that someday he would get what he wanted. Life didn't grant his wish and now all that Mozzie wanted was for his young friend to get what he in his own time couldn't obtain. Why couldn't Neal just gratefully take what he was given?

"Psychologically speaking, I should say that Suit is wrong. I'm talking about making you call him Dad. A child should come to this himself; he should be ready to accept such changes. But in your case, I dare say the fed is doing the right thing. You wouldn't know what you truly desire even if that thing hit you right on the head."

Neal didn't say anything in reply to that. He knew that Mozzie was right but he wasn't going to admit it. It wasn't easy. It wasn't like somebody gave you a bar of chocolate and you say 'thanks'. It was a lot more complicated than that and Neal needed time to accept it.

"If you have doubts, though, you should be aware that I have a backup plan, and also a backup plan to the backup plan, and a couple of other plans." stated Mozzie and stopped once again. He took off his glasses and looked pointedly at Neal, who in his turn smiled his acknowledgment. Mozzie was showing Neal that he was ready to move on and was making plans for the future, which the teenager took as an unspoken sign of forgiveness, which he didn't hope to get so soon after ignoring his friend for such a long time.

"We can always flee the country." added Mozzie and put his glasses back on.

"We need cash to do that and my hands are a bit tied up at the moment, if you hadn't noticed." answered Neal, not really sure if they indeed needed a backup plan.

"A few things remain hidden and are waiting for the right opportunity to help us. But I think we won't even need those. Let's find a more appropriate place; I want to show you something."

They kept marching down the street, before finally taking a turn to the left and walking into a small alley. Trees that were on both sides of the alley hid the houses, therefore giving at least a sense of privacy.

"Suit doesn't allow me to take active part in the investigation." admitted Mozzie, looking around to check that no one could see or hear them. "We were at odds lately, but when I found out that you didn't show up at home I decided to put my pride on the shelf for the time being. You see what you're doing to me, Neal? You make me forget about my own principals! Anyway, I insisted that Suit take me with him on the search for you and we went to Adler's place." said Mozzie, not mentioning that he just happened to stumble upon Peter, when the agent was going to look for Neal.

"Adler?"

"You want the whole continent to know what we're talking about?! Have I taught you nothing? Keep your voice down. As I was saying, it wasn't night yet but I wouldn't call the evening young either. It was more like a…"

"Moz! Get to the point, please. Peter gave us only half an hour."

"Since when are you an angel who listens to what he's being told? As I was saying, I couldn't help but notice, and you know how attentive I can be to the details, the cameras weren't working – I think the cameras were on diagnostic or something like that, because not even one of them was working, Adler was busy with Suit and the opportunity was just knocking on my door. I was fast and nothing could prevent me from getting what I wanted…"

"And what exactly did you want?"

"Shh! Do you want to hear the rest of the story, Neal? I got into Adler's office, just as I planned, and was about to get to the safe, when the ray of sun led me towards a bizarre object on the table. It was all I could think of. My eyes were glued to…"

"Moz, I thought you said it was evening. Where did the sun come from?" interrupted Neal, not really meaning to do that.

"Do you have to be so cantankerous? It was the light from the moon then, happy now?"

"You said it wasn't night…"

"I don't know. There was the light that led me to the thing on the table. That's it. As I was saying, before you started nagging me with those unnecessary details, the gems were sparkling on that object, begging me to save them from the monster in face of Adler. I gave in to those pleadings and in a matter of seconds I was on my way towards new adventures." concluded Mozzie somewhat proudly, making Neal roll his eyes at his pompous tale.

"You're like a leprechaun, Mozzie. You take everything that is sparkling." laughed the teenager.

"Laugh all you want, but I bet you will stop as soon as you see this."

With those words Mozzie carefully took out the small object and putting it on his open palm, showed it to Neal. That effectively shut the boy up. Neal looked wide-eyed at the object and then shifted his attention to Mozzie, who was smiling and looked like he was ready to explode from all joy.

"That's the zibeline, Moz. Remember I told you about Béatrice and Gerard? That's the same thing I saw on her portrait. Well, the half of it." said Neal, taking the zibeline and turning it to see from every side. Indeed, it was only one half of the original zibeline, which meant that Adler still had the second part. Why everything had to be so difficult? Why couldn't Mozzie take the whole thing?

"The half of it? There wasn't anything else…"

"We have to tell Peter about it, Moz. It proves zibeline's existence. With that we can move on to more important things. It can take the investigation to another level."

"I can't. Suit will never let me near the Bureau after this and I still kinda hope to get there. They have some technology worth looking at." admitted Mozzie, hiding his small treasure securely in his pocket.

"Peter is the least of your concerns! Have you thought about what Adler is going to do when he finds out that you stole from him?"

"If he finds out…" Suddenly Mozzie didn't feel as confident.

"He will, Mozzie. And when he does, he will kill you. Or better yet some of his people will do that dirty work for him." exclaimed Neal.

"I'll think about it, ok? Don't tell the fed anything yet. It's getting late. Let's get you home."

After getting home, surprisingly just on time, Neal spent some time with his officially soon to be parents. Then he headed to bed, as _Dad_ said they needed to get up early the next morning. Neal thought about Mozzie's backup plan and decided that he really needed to brush up his French, just in case they had to run… You never know what you might need… So, opening his laptop and turning on one of his new programs, Neal finally lay down. It truly was a long day.

The recording was playing loudly and at first Peter wasn't paying much attention to it, as he was just starting getting ready for bed. Twenty minutes passed and the agent was already losing his last nerves.

"What is he doing there?" growled Peter, making an attempt to stand up only to be stopped by Elizabeth.

"Neal mentioned today that he wanted to try a new method of learning French. He's listening to some audio files in his sleep. Said it will help him to remember new information."

"What a ridiculous method. You either sleep, or you stake awake and study. Besides, how can he sleep with that audio playing so loudly?"

Ten minutes more and Peter was stomping towards Neal's bedroom. He decided against knocking, as he doubted Neal would hear anything. Opening the door and getting ready to order the teen to turn off the annoying recording, Peter abruptly stopped. Neal was sound asleep, looking young and innocent. Peter turned off the computer and silently pulled up the blanket to cover Neal properly.

"He really must have been tired. He was already asleep when I came." whispered Peter, getting back under the covers and hugging his wife.

"It was an exhausting day for all of us." replied Elizabeth softly.

"Yeah… But it's a good kind of exhaustion, though."


	8. Golden Decisions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Life has been tough for me and I couldn't bring myself to finishing this story. But I promised to finish this story no matter what and here I am. I would really appreciate if you could leave a review saying whether you liked the chapter or not, plus you can always PM me.
> 
> Without further ado, enjoy the chapter!

Adler slammed the door of the safe, which was at the present moment empty, and resting his hand against the wall leant his forehead on it. The man was struggling to concentrate on trying to even his breathing, as it was the only thing that stopped him from tearing apart his own office. The room itself looked more like some open-roofed library after tornado: books, papers, notebooks, pens and a lot of other different things were chaotically thrown all over the room. Everything that a mere hour ago was neatly hidden behind the door of the safe was now spread across the smooth surface of the wooden table.

It was gone! The zibeline was gone! Well, the half of it anyway… Adler was cursing fate, people and himself for being so inattentive and blind. Earlier he had had a feeling that something was wrong, but giving in to fatigue he didn't bother to check everything, as he usually did after someone was in his office. And Vincent was also aware of the fact that the cameras weren't working the previous day and now he didn't have a clue as to who would dare steal something – anything! – from his own office.

Calm down, Vincent. Think rationally. That day he only had one visitor – Sanders. Could he pull something like that? Definitely. That raven-headed man was nothing more but a sly viper in disguise. Adler would have to put a couple of his men on Sanders' tail. If that really was him, that snake won't get away this time. Still leaning heavily on the wall, Adler squeezed his eyes and growled silently, but audible enough. Due to his sphere of business, Vincent had to have to deal with truly the nastiest representatives of mankind. Think, think, think… Who else? Was Sanders his only suspect? After midday Adler had no visitors… He was working at breaking the code and trying to understand the map, as he didn't manage to get the only thing that could be a clue to solving the puzzle. Clues or no clues Adler was determined to get to the bottom of things. No one said it was going to be easy to get one of the biggest treasures if not in the world, that at least in America. But he was getting away from his problem. Burke came in the evening and during their not so pleasant conversation, the fed killed a couple of Vincent's nerve cells. Mozzie! He came with the fed but didn't participate in their "lovely" chat. Could he really dare to steal the zibeline? He was clever enough to do something like this, which was undebatable… The remaining question is if he was stupid enough to do it.

The usually level-headed and composed man doubled his hand into a tight fist and turning abruptly away from the wall, hit the table in anger. Taking shaky breaths, Adler closed his eyes. Whoever did this would pay.

* * *

In a big city such as New York, you can never be completely alone: even when it's still dark outside because of the clouds, which hide the first rays of the sun and even when a small nasty rain is doing everything to put you in the same nasty mood, such as today. The good side of this whole ordeal is that nobody actually pays any attention to the fellow citizens. Everyone has their own business to attend to and there is no time to look around. That is unless your business is to look after somebody and keep track of their actions. You shouldn't be afraid of such people, but you should definitely be cautious of what they might see or hear and as a result report to their employer – the person you should fear. If somebody decides to hire a person to track you down, this somebody has a strong reason to do so.

Keeping all of that in mind, a man in his late twenties was slowly walking down the street. He stopped and took off his glasses using them to look at what was going on behind his back without actually turning around and thus avoiding letting anyone know that he knew he was being watched. People, who knew this man, were aware of his paranoias and would probably laugh at his extra precautions. But you can never be too cautious, especially when you know that you, in fact, have done something that warrants such treatment. Mozzie sighed and, putting his glasses back on his nose, abruptly turned around the corner. He had to lose yet another tail. Mozzie was fully aware of the fact that Adler was suspecting him of stealing the zibeline but at the same time his former employer didn't have enough evidence that he did that. That's why Mozzie tried to look at the situation in the following light: the bad news was that Adler did suspect him, and the good news was that apparently, he had some other suspects. Mozzie was sure of that, because if not for the other suspects, the short guy wouldn't be roaming the streets of New York right now, but would most probably be having a "conversation" with Adler in his basement if he was lucky enough.

Trying not to look around and show his persecutors that he was aware of the tail, Mozzie lazily walked around the block for a while. He could lose his tail of course but then it would be almost humiliatingly easy. An honest man and Mozzie considered himself one, wasn't afraid of someone breathing down his neck. No, he would allow those buffoons to follow him so that they could report back to their boss lots of useless information.

With that in thought, Mozzie crossed the road quickly, making sure he was still followed. The short guy's first destination was the bar near the Grand Central Station because, let's face it, what can be better than fresh oysters in the morning, especially when you're sure that your persecutors won't be able to afford such a luxurious breakfast.

After spending about an hour at the oyster bar, Mozzie noticed that the rain stopped and now the weather was as sunny as his mood and the sky was as clear as his conscience. Well, there were a couple of clouds, but who cares?

While we're at it, it's important to note that Mozzie was more than just well acquainted with shame and remorse for his actions. However, there was a line he had to cross to have a guilty conscience and stealing a part of a zibeline from Adler was too far away from that line to feel anything but pride for his small, yet quite a successful adventure.

Whistling a tune, Mozzie wandered the streets for some time, carefully avoiding his "acquaintances" and places, known as "dealers' spots". In other words, Mozzie was just going around doing everything he usually does in daytime.

He saw a guy, who always had some colourful shirts in stock for him. Soon Mozzie was lost in bargaining with the seller for some hybrid shirt, born from the love between a mad green pineapple shirt and pink and red plaid one. Not getting any kind of discount and finally giving up by saying that sometimes not getting what you want is wonderful struck of luck, Mozzie continued with his meaningless journey.

Two men, who were supposed to follow the suspicious short guy, had to listen to Mozzie and a cute waitress, whose name was apparently Gina, talk for a few hours. One of Mozzie's persecutors was a fat, awkward-looking man, whose youth was gone so long ago, that he wasn't even sure if he was ever young or if it was just his imagination. In fact, he wasn't that old. It was just a matter of his own attitude towards his age. That man was known under the name, which was never his own – Larry. Unlike his accomplice, Larry enjoyed listening to Mozzie trying to convince Gina that D. H. Lawrence's books have a deep philosophical meaning and all you have to do is see through all the dirty details to get to the real problem of the novel.

What an intelligent man that Mozzie guy is! Larry wished he could sit a bit closer as he couldn't hear some of Gina's replies. Never in his life could Larry take part in such discussions. He wasn't the one to think of smart retorts and intricate questions, but it was still fascinating for him to listen to such kind of conversations. Sometimes Larry remembered a few good phrases and tried to use them in his own speech to sound more intelligent and sophisticated, although most of the time everything was just out of place. Nevertheless, that couldn't stop him from at least enjoying interesting conversations. How Larry wished he had a better company. Someone, whose interests were not only food and money, like his accomplice's. The man looked sadly at his chewing partner and sighed. Little did he know that their day would only become worse. Not only they were walking on foot for the rest of the day, but they also didn't get any useful information. Maybe the next day would be better…

* * *

At the same time as Mozzie first realised that he was being followed, Neal was only opening his eyes. The first thing he noticed was that his laptop was switched off. He groaned and sat up on the bed. The teenager was still not sure if everything that happened wasn't just a crazy dream.

Peter was making sandwiches when Neal got downstairs. The boy stopped and watched the agent for a few minutes. The sounds of the knife cutting some ham and Satchmo chewing on his new toy filled the room. Satchmo barked and that attracted Peter's attention, making him turn around.

"Good morning, buddy. I'm the breakfast chef today." smiled Peter and motioned for Neal to take his seat.

Neal didn't have time to chat with Peter, except for wishing him a good morning, as Elizabeth appeared.

"Phew, what died in here?" asked El, walking into the room. She sat down beside Neal and watched Peter cooking. "Honey, I think that deviled ham has gone bad. Its smell leaves a lot to be desired."

"Smells fine to me. Mmm, and tastes as good as always." replied Peter and put prepared sandwiches into the lunch box, closing it with a loud click. "After you taste this, Neal, you'll never want to order anything else."

"It would be more like "Taste this and have a food poisoning". No, no, no!" objected El, moving towards the fridge. "I'll make you a chicken sandwich."

Neal just smiled, feeling that lunch was going to be an interesting affair.

About an hour later, when Peter and Neal arrived at the Bureau, Peter was lost in his thoughts and Neal was looking around as if he arrived at the Federal Bureau of Investigation for the first time in his life. After a few months of trying to be independent and free, Neal was glad to be finally in the place where he felt more or less comfortable. Everything was so familiar, that Neal was a bit surprised that even after all this time he was still accustomed to the ways the things at the Bureau worked. Mr Daniels was drinking his usual morning coffee while shaking his head at the young agent trying to squeeze his way into the elevator. People with paper holders, files, evidence bags were scurrying in different directions, with some of them managing to talk on the phones at the same time.

As they were waiting for the elevators, Peter started talking, thus pulling Neal out of his observations.

"Neal, before I forget…"

"Behave or else… Yeah, yeah, I know, Peter… Um, I mean Dad." said Neal in a bored voice, walking into the crowded space of the elevator and smiling daringly at the last phrase.

"That too. But it's still not what I was going to say." replied the agent and tried to squeeze through the door. After a successful attempt, he was standing next to the teenager, speaking in a hushed voice and tilting his head a bit so that only Neal could hear him. "I understand that you are eager to learn French but could you please do this while you're awake?"

"So it was you who turned off the recording?" asked Neal, copying Peter's manner of speech. "Thanks to you I'll have to listen to it again tonight."

"Neal."

Annoyance and a warning were quite evident in Peter's tone. The boy turned to look at the agent trying to understand why Peter was so frustrated.

"Oh! Did I wake you guys up? Sorry about that. I'll put on my headphones tonight…"

"Your deduction skills amaze me today." grumbled Peter and with a sigh of relief stepped out of the stuffy elevator. "Don't put on your headphones, or you'll strangle yourself in sleep."

Neal rolled his eyes at that statement but refrained from commenting.

"Don't listen to those recordings at all while you're sleeping, ok? Your brain needs rest and you don't give it a chance by 'studying in your sleep'. Neal? Neal! Are you even listening to me?"

Caffrey was standing in front of the glass door, anxiously looking inside. The teenager felt guilty after what he'd done and a thought that most of the agents probably knew everything about his adventures didn't make him feel any better.

"Peter, I can't… I…"

The agent sighed for what it seemed a hundredth time in one day and, putting his hands on Neal's shoulders, turned the boy around so that now they were facing each other. Neal's eyes immediately found Peter's reassuring gaze and the teenager felt how some of the tension faded away.

"I think we've already talked about it, Neal. Leave the past in the past. It was just an agreement but I can always make it a rule." Peter tried to lighten the mood with his odd joke, which fortunately worked and the boy smiled, pushing the door and walking into the office. Neal didn't know what to expect and as it turned out he didn't need to worry at all.

"Hey, Neal. I've got some nice forgeries. Wanna take a look? I need an expert advice." said Jones, taking Neal away from Peter as soon as he noticed them.

The boy glanced at his guardian and getting a small nod, went with Jones. When some agents with coffee and huge case files in their hands greeted Neal as if they saw each other only a few hours ago, and then Hughes gave him a curt nod, the teenager suddenly was sure that everything would be just fine. It was like he never left at all.

Time is truly a mysterious thing. It can crawl one moment and then it suddenly speeds up and starts flying only to seemingly come to an abrupt stop.

That day Neal was too busy to think about such things though. Jones was right when he claimed to have some nice forgeries, so they spent most of the morning working on those paintings. Moreover, Clinton showed Neal the brighter side of the paperwork. No matter how everyone hated this part of the job, it was important when going to the next stage of solving the case – court. Now Neal found a new dream, which he turned into his goal, deciding that he was too old for meaningless dreams. He wanted to present evidence in the courtroom. Naturally, he wouldn't be allowed to take the stand right that instant but Jones said he'd try to get him inside to watch the process. Neal really hoped that Jones would be able to make it happen. And the teenager would be twice as happy if it could be on a school day.

An interesting case or not but lunch is a sacred thing and cannot be ignored under any circumstances. This is why Neal went to find Peter and most importantly the sandwiches the agent had with him. When the boy entered the conference room and asked about the whereabouts of his lunch, Peter just pointed towards his bag and continued discussing some matters with his colleagues.

Neal intended to take his lunch and leave the room but noticed that things were much more exciting right there and decided to stay. So while Peter, Hughes and a couple of senior agents continued working on the case, Neal was sitting in the corner of the conference room chewing on his sandwiches. The agents were so absorbed in their current case that they didn't even notice the intruder.

"Hutson won't resist going to this exhibition, Hughes! If we don't get him at the opening, it might be too late. Plus, can you imagine what major problems there will be with Kazakhstan's Consulate?! It will be an international scandal."

"I understand your concern, Peter. But there is nothing I can do at the moment. We need to involve the department of international affairs on this, not to mention the fact that we need special warrants for such kind of operation at the Consulate."

The debates continued with everyone trying to think of the ways to overcome difficulties. Neal was half way through his second sandwich when Diana walked into the room.

"What is that smell?" she asked.

The agents started looking around and Neal was finally detected with his deviled ham sandwich.

"Neal, you know where the kitchen is!" thundered Agent Burke. "Get out of here this instant!"

"Mmm, your sandwich  _is_ good, Peter." said Neal, standing up and slowly walking towards the exit, with everyone's eyes on him. "By the way, you can always get in there as guests, you know." he mentioned as if by accident.

"What do you propose, Caffrey?" asked Agent Hughes, not paying attention to his agents, who were far from happy to see that their ideas were not even considered, while a nosy teenager got all the spotlight.

"No. NO! Absolutely not." protested Peter, seeing where all of this was going. Peter knew his boy too well to understand that he was going to propose something… unusual.

"My plan is quite simple, Agent Hughes."

* * *

A group of young people led by their supervisor went into the building, where the Consulate of Kazakhstan was situated. The supervisor was highly frustrated, which became more evident when he stopped for a few moments and said something to the guards. Neal waited for about ten minutes and got out of his hiding place. He was tucking in his shirt as he ran towards the building. Making sure he was panting believable enough, he approached the guards.

"Hi. I'm Samuel Carnahan…" said Neal. He put his hands on knees, breathing as if he ran a thousand miles.

"Samuel Carnahan… Yes, your name is on the list. Why are you late?" replied one of the guards, his gaze fixed on the papers. His partner's chestnut brown eyes, on the other hand, were boring into Neal, so that the latter was shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"I know. Sorry…" mumbled Neal. "Can you, please, let me in?"

"It's a serious event, kid. Don't think it's just a fun party."

"I'll keep that in mind, sir. Thanks."

Passing the guards, Neal hurried inside and ran along the hall, almost knocking down a girl. From that moment everything for Neal was like in slow motion. Firstly he caught the sight of the frills at the bottom of her turquoise-coloured dress. Raising his gaze up to the level of the girl's waist, Neal understood that the enormous amount of weightless folds were coming from under the wide, dark brown leather belt. The belt had, as Neal guessed, Kazakh national ornaments all over it and was the main attention gripping part so far. The upper part of the dress was decorated with embroidery. The girl with brown Asian eyes smiled in reply to Neal's apologise and nodded amiably and clicking her heels on the marble floor went to take her place with the musicians. Neal followed her, as he was curious to what kind of instrument she held in her hands. It reminded him a guitar a bit, but had a much simpler form and had only two strings.

"It's a dombra. It's the most widely used Kazakh folk instrument." replied the girl with a mild accent. She tilted her head a little while finding a more comfortable position, and her black braided hair fell on her shoulder. Neal watched and listened with awe when she started playing. Never in his life could he have imagined that it was possible to make such beautiful music with only two strings.

The musicians were called for the final rehearsal and Neal had to leave for the kitchen. Of course, he would have preferred to come to the evening at the Consulate as an honoured guest, but Peter wouldn't budge. Under no circumstances Neal was going to miss all the fun, so he had to find his own means of getting to that particular event. The teenager had to go at great length to get to where he was standing that very moment.

The previous day, as soon as Neal finished his authorised part of the plan, he began working on getting himself inside as well. No need to explain all the details of how he managed to find all the needed information, however, it's important to mention that the teenager wasn't pleased with the results. Turned out that the only person who was able to help him was Sammy. Yes, that Sammy, who was in Kate's gang and who left Neal with a black eye after he caught Neal and Kate kissing. Unfortunately, he was the best and only option.

Sammy went to a prestigious school, where students could volunteer to take part at events such as evenings at the Consulate from time to time. This time the students were given an opportunity to attend a high-class cultural event while helping to serve the tables. Why would Sammy agree to such kind of job was beyond Neal but he wisely kept his mouth shut, as his only solution was to go to the Consulate under Sammy's name. It wasn't as hard to persuade Sammy as Neal thought it would be. The only unpleasant thing was that now Neal owed Sammy. Big time. And all that was left for Neal to do was hope that Peter wouldn't find out about it.

"Where have you been?" asked the man, who Neal saw leading the group of volunteers earlier. The teenager turned around and the man, who was clearly expecting to see someone else, stopped and looked closely at Neal. "Who the hell are you?"

"I…" started Neal but was effectively stopped by a tray that was shoved into his hands.

"Doesn't matter. We don't have enough time as it is. Why are you still here? Go, go, go!"

Neal sighed and followed the suit of the other volunteers and served the tables. He didn't waste his time and got acquainted with most of the people there, so by the time guests started to arrive Neal was feeling right at home.

Soon enough he noticed two men in black suits approaching the guards and handing them their invitations. That was it. The moment of truth. The men passed without any problems and Neal breathed a sigh of relief and almost cried out in triumph. Their plan worked.

The thing was that Hughes gave Neal permission to forge invitations for Peter and Jones. The teenager had proposed that idea himself but was a bit unsure of the results. He had a great experience with forgeries, so he didn't find that job difficult. Nevertheless, it was still a serious event and Neal couldn't help but feel anxious.

The teenager knew that it would be better not to let Peter see him at all. And that task wouldn't be impossible, considering how many people were present. But where would all the fun be? That way Peter would never know that the great Neal Caffrey managed to get to the event himself! Those thoughts brought a mischevious smile on Neal's face and he made his way towards the agents.

"Would you like a drink, sir?"

"No, thank you… Neal?!"

"You must be mistaken, sir. My name's Samuel." replied Neal pointing at his name tag. Peter raised his eyebrows and glanced at Jones who was trying hard not to laugh. The agent had to admit that Neal was creative and decided to put the issue aside for now.

"We'll talk about this later then, Samuel." said Peter, stressing the last word. With that, the agents left Neal and went to look at the central exhibition, the one that they thought could lure Hutson out – The Golden Man of Issyk.

The Golden Man, as anthropologists determined, was a young warrior of about 17 years old. He was buried in a richly embroidered golden attire. His head was clad in a high headpiece of a conic shape, decorated with gold plates of various forms and sizes. This is why he was called the Golden Man when he was found by a group of Kazakh archaeologists in 1969 near the river Issyk, not far from Almaty. And now he was brought to New York for a few days, along with the gold and silver coins and jewellery dating back to the sixth century B.C.

"I bet nowadays nobody would willingly put so much gold into the ground even if it was to pay respects to a noble warrior." sighed Jones, stepping closer to look at the exhibit.

"It wasn't put into the ground. The Golden Man was put into a sarcophagus, which by the way, was made of the Tien-Shan spruce wood, and only then he was put into his burial chamber in the ground." said a smartly dressed man, approaching two agents from the back.

Peter recognised that voice from the very beginning but he was hoping it was just a hallucination. Neal was here and now Mozzie?! That was too much.

"Kristian Goldschmidt." said Mozzie, shaking hands with both Peter and Clinton.

"Are you here with 'Samuel'?" asked Peter, his gaze following Neal, who was apparently having the time of his life being involved in such event.

Mozzie looked in the same direction and even if he was surprised to see Neal, he didn't show it. He decided to refrain from the biting comment, shaking his head instead and taking yet another glass from the waiter.

"Then what are you doing here, Mr…?"

"Goldschmidt. I was invited by the Ambassador of Kazakhstan." answered Mozzie with a hint of pride. "I have a busy social life, you know."

Mozzie enjoyed social gatherings just as he enjoyed good wine. And in contrast to the agents, he had a real invitation. Well, he might have exaggerated a little when he said he was invited by the Ambassador but that wasn't important. He was invited, therefore he came to enjoy the exhibition. This time, however, he came here for more than just pleasure. Two buffoons from the previous day were still following him and it wasn't as easy to get rid of them as Mozzie originally thought it would be. It was starting to concern the short guy but he still wasn't ready to admit that he needed any kind of help.

The evening went on and after the guests have seen all of the exhibitions, have shaken hands with and exchanged greetings with each and every one, and tasted everything that was offered, in other words when people were ready for something new, they were invited to a concert. The crowd proceeded to the next room and soon the main hall was almost empty. Mozzie was the only person who stayed behind. He wanted to admire those small pieces of culture that were brought to him (fine, not only to him!) in solitude. The short guy slowly went from one exhibition to another, experiencing one of the biggest enjoyments in his life. How accurately and beautifully were made those coins! What an amazing idea! And what a deep philosophical meaning! But the most breathtaking part was, of course, the Golden Man. This was the exhibition Mozzie was currently thoroughly studying and admiring.

To say that Mozzie enjoyed spending his evening in such a way is to say nothing. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and trying to imagine what it felt like to be a noble warrior at a tender age of 17 and fight for your people. Mozzie thought he heard the sounds of swords banging against each other, the sounds of horses running and stomping their hooves somewhere in the distance. Just for a moment, he wasn't in New York. He was thousands of years away in the lands of Kazakhstan, under the sun, which seemed to be able to reduce you to ashes in a matter of seconds. Mozzie could swear he saw a richly decorated chest full of gold and silver coins. He felt the coolness of the metal on his hands and taking one of the coins, he looked at it and it was shining brightly under the rays of the sun. Such a small thing and so valuable! In all senses of the word. It was valuable for history, culture and art. And it was also valuable for a person who could sell it. Mozzie loved art, but he was also a materialist at heart, so this is why this exhibition was so fascinating for him.

Mozzie was brought back to his own timeline and city when he heard a noise. He was quick enough to hide, more out of habit than anything else, He hid behind the stand with ancient Kazakh jewellery, which, lucky for Mozzie, was at the furthest corner of the room and that gave him an opportunity to see and hear everything without being detected.

A middle-aged man with greyish hair and snake-like face walked into the room through the door leading from one of the corridors. He was walking hurriedly and was looking around all the time. Mozzie recognised the man with pale, yellowish skin at once. It was Tobold Burrows and Mozzie hated that guy with a passion. If Tobold got his hands on some piece of art, you could be sure you wouldn't be able to see that particular creation anymore. Tobold's only concern was money. He didn't value art, he didn't see or understand the beauty of anything, actually. Where Mozzie saw an expensive painting on which a talented artist spent days or even months of his life trying to reach perfection, Tobold saw a way to get rich. He could easily cut a painting in half if that meant more money for him. Any work of art for him was a synonym of a credit card. And when he saw gold…

Gold. Mozzie greeted his teeth, watching how Tobold circled around the exhibition with the Golden Man. Mozzie understood that it was impossible for Burrows to pull something like stealing the Golden Man if he was alone.

At other times Mozzie would have applauded to a daring plan, but seeing Burrows only irritated him to no end. Mozzie knew that Tobold wasn't sneaky and brave enough to sell the Golden Man as a whole piece, that is of course if he ever managed to steal it in the first place. No, he would most likely melt all the gold and sell the gold bullion. An important cultural work would be lost due to the stupidity and greediness of one man.

All those thoughts passed Mozzie's mind in a blink of an eye. And all this time Mozzie didn't let Burrows leave his sight. Burrows stayed for long enough to check out the security system and take a look at the room. Mozzie watched him look for all the exits and he noticed when Tobold pressed some buttons on his phone, probably sending a message to his accomplices.

And then realisation hit Mozzie. Suits were there for a reason. Burrows, Suits and this whole event – everything had something to do with the Golden Man of Issyk. Mozzie sighed. He didn't need to think for long to decide what to do next. He had to save the world, even if it meant he needed to break thieves' honour code. Well, if breaking the unspeakable code meant he would at least have a chance to save the Golden Man from being melted, he would do it. After all, a man would do, what a man had to do.

At the same time as Mozzie was spying on Tobold Burrows, Diana was reporting to Agent Burke that they detected Hutson a couple of blocks away from the Consulate. He seemingly didn't have any instruments or anything needed for the heist, but Diana was sure that his accomplices were not far behind, if not at the Consulate already.

Peter's conversation with Diana on the phone was rudely interrupted by Mozzie, who claimed to have some pressing matters to discuss.

"I don't know and frankly speaking I don't care which of the criminal masterminds you are planning on taking down but I need you to have a look at one guy." started Mozzie, checking that nobody was able to overhear their conversation.

"We won't waste our time on one of your enemies." said Jones, who clearly didn't know Mozzie as well as he thought.

"Let him speak, Jones." interfered Peter.

"What do you know, Haversham?"

"Kristian Goldschmidt." automatically corrected Mozzie. "I might or I might not possess some kind of information, which you might, or might not find useful."

"Mozzie!" practically hissed Peter in a warning tone.

"The man, about whom I heard under the name of Tobold Burrows might be here tonight. And he might have been checking out the security system in the main exhibition hall just a few minutes ago." replied Mozzie looking as if he ate a whole lemon by himself.

A woman in a heavy dress that looked like it was made out of an old carpet and in contrast to her an elegantly dressed gentleman, who was evidently her escort, walked past the place where our heroes were sitting. While the pair was in the hearing distance, Mozzie talked loudly about Kazakh national music and said how he liked the sounds of Kobyz more than anything else in the world. Peter and Clinton only shook their heads at Mozzie's attempt for conspiration.

"I'm telling you, this guy is the evil in disguise. He's the cultural devil." said Mozzie, as soon as the bizarre pair left and took their seats in the front row.

"Diana will look this guy up." answered Peter and turning to Jones added. "Looks like Hutson's people are already here."

Mozzie choked on his baursak, which is a simple fried piece of dough but which to everyone's amazement tastes fabulous.

"Hutson? You're hunting down Hutson! What have I gotten myself into?!" murmured Mozzie, half-regretting his decision to save the world. Sometimes being a hero can be so tough!

Being a wise man, Mozzie left two agents and continued with his pleasant evening. While Peter was gathering information from Diana and her team, which spent a tiring evening in a van, Mozzie tasted all the dishes and even memorised a couple of Kazakh songs. He got acquainted with the lady in the carpet dress, as Mozzie came to call her, and who turned out to be an archaeologist and quite an interesting woman. To Mozzie's relief and happiness, later he couldn't even explain why he felt that way, the smartly dressed gentleman turned out to be the woman's cousin.

In the meantime Peter was watching out for Hutson. He couldn't let him get away but he also needed to get him red-handed. This is why they had to be extremely careful. Agent Burke was planning in letting Hutson get what he wanted and only then take him. In all truth, the agents wanted to see how Hutson would pull the heist in plain sight. Even a job in White Collar division didn't mean you get to see high-class robberies every day.

Less than half an hour later the agents found out Hutson's plan. It was quite simple, yet elegant.

Hutson was always good at team building. Usually he had a few people in mind as backup players. The main thing was that only Hutson himself knew who would be the member of his team for a particular job. Only Hutson was in control and nobody was aware who else was in his first big heist almost ended up as a huge catastrophe because one of the members of his gang didn't bother to show up. This is why Hutson paid so much attention to the members of his so called team.

He trusted his people to do the job and tried to stay out of the operation himself. Each person knew only about one part of the plan, so that way even if somebody got caught, he wouldn't be able to rat others out. This time Hutson paid extra attention to his choice of people. He was working on this plan for a few month. Now his people were exactly where he needed them to be. Some of them even had jobs (legal ones, mind you!) at the Consulate. His people were everywhere.

The heist itself was difficult to prepare for but simple enough to carry out. Most of the work was done by Hutson's people. He was especially proud of his newest member, for whom even such a complicated security system was a piece of cake. This man was Tobold Burrows. This time Hutson decided to participate directly in the operation and left the most important, therefore the most interesting part for himself. He wanted everything to be perfect and spectacular. This was going to be the crime of the century!

Little did he know that his love for spectacular exits would bring him down. As soon as he tried to take a step outside the building of the Consulate, he was surrounded by FBI agents as well as the security guards of the Consulate. It wouldn't be such a big deal if he didn't have a cart with the Golden Man inside.

At the time when Diana was making her big arrest, Peter and Jones were already taking off their ties and were making themselves comfortable in the van.

"I can't believe Hutson planned to simply walk out of the door!" exclaimed Jones, throwing his jacket on the nearest chair. "I thought that was supposed to be the robbery of the century."

"It would have been if we hadn't got him." replied Peter. "Just imagine the headlines: A Golden Man was carried out of the Consulate in daylight in a cart. It would have also been the scandal of the century. I have to admit, that by placing his people everywhere and giving himself an opportunity to work in plain sight, Hutson once again proved his intelligence."

Peter stood up and opened the door when he heard someone banging on it.

"You got him!" exclaimed Mozzie, insolently coming into the van with Neal in tow.

"Yes, Diana arrested Hutson…" started Jones proudly.

"I'm not interested in him! Although, I have to admit that some people find Hutson's work inspiring." interrupted Mozzie. "I ask you about Burrows." Mozzie said that in a way, in which you explain something complicated to a two-year-old child.

"We got him, Mozzie" assured him Peter, taking his seat and motioning for Mozzie to do the same.

"I may have crossed the line and I may have temporally come to the other side, but I refuse to get comfortable here." answered Mozzie with unbelievable dignity.

"What, afraid you might like it here?" Jones couldn't help but ask.

"Not a chance, Suit. Not a chance. I would rather…"

Neal was anxious to hear all about the case and was getting tired of listening to a conversation, in which he had zero interest. While Mozzie continued rabbiting on about God knows what, the teenager decided to check out the bag that Mozzie brought with him. To Neal's amazement and pleasure, it was filled with food. Neal didn't have a chance to taste anything at the event, as he was too busy, but now it looked like Providence in face of Mozzie gave him a perfect opportunity. He took a few baursaks from the bag with a thought that life was getting better and better.

"I'm ready to share almost anything with you, mon frère. But don't you even think about thinking you can touch those." said Mozzie taking his bag away from Neal, who was fervently stuffing his mouth with food that was still left in his possession.

"This delicious puffy fried bread is not your everyday food. It's served only on special occasions and you eat it like it's a plain toast!" continued his tirade Mozzie.

Looking at his friend, Neal was waiting for steam to come out of Mozzie's ears. However, this was not meant to happen, as Peter turned their conversation in another direction.

"Mozzie, your information about Burrows really helped us with our case." said Peter. "You were right about him. I'm glad you came to us. Thank you."

"Yeah. Thanks to you, now we can say we got an anonymous call from the Consulate because someone hacked their security system." added Jones.

"Aaah, I see. So you came to check out the information and just happened to see Hutson walking out with the Golden Man. Wise move, Suits."

"Wise move, Haversham." replied Peter.

Peter watched how Mozzie took his package with food and quickly left the van. It was evident that Mozzie was worried about something. The agent couldn't truly understand what made him think so. Maybe it was the lack of sarcasm and quotes, or maybe Mozzie's demeanour this evening, or maybe all of the above. Sooner or later Peter would find out, but at the moment he had other things to take care of, such as tonnes of new paperwork and discussion with "Samuel", who was happily drinking kumys – a national Kazakh drink, which Mozzie forgot to take with him. Mozzie forgot… Another thing to put on the list of Mozzie's unusual behaviour.

* * *

The evening at the Consulate was a breath of fresh air for Mozzie. Not only did he got an aesthetic pleasure by being surrounded by important for history and culture works and creations, but he also managed to help (not without hesitation, of course!) the FBI with their case. Mozzie always told himself that he didn't need recognition or appreciation, but hearing a simple "thank you" from the agents made his heart beat a little bit faster… It was probably just an effect from all the drinks. That was it. He just had a high blood pressure.

His evening didn't end as pleasantly as it had started. Two buffoons were still following Mozzie and now he had to admit that he couldn't lose this particular tail easily and that was a bad sign. In the end, he still managed to get read of his followers and went straight to the place where he was currently standing.

Mozzie looked at the house that was just across the street and then glanced at the small piece of paper in his hand. That "carpet lady", whose name was Carla, gave him her number. And Mozzie was determined to live long enough to give her a call.

Mozzie hid behind a tree when he saw a couple of silhouettes coming towards the house. Soon enough he heard laughter and barking of the saw how a well-known to him man walked up the stairs and knocked on the door. The man turned around and said something to the boy, who was playing with the dog and clearly had no desire to go home. A woman opened the front door, kissed the man and they both watched the boy and the dog for a few minutes, before finally making them go into the house.

The family went home, the door was closed and the lights could be seen in the windows now, but Mozzie was still standing outside not daring to cross the street. He waited for a few minutes and finally made himself come up to the house. No one can tell how much time passed until Mozzie knocked on the door, but when he finally did it, almost all the windows in the neighbourhood were dark and almost every person was in bed. Some of them were seeing a thousandth dream and some were only falling asleep, when one their neighbours, Peter Burke got up from his warm bed to open the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: You see, I'm from Kazakhstan. And I heard a couple of times on TV that we only have a desert and spiders. That's so not true! This inspired me to write this chapter and hope you liked it. The Golden Man of Issyk exists, and if you want to know more you can ask me or you can google it. By the way, is there anyone from Kazakhstan who's reading this?
> 
> Next chapter will be up soon.


	9. Double standards

The day was long and tiring and Peter was glad to be home. Peter took Neal with him to walk Satchmo, as he was hoping to talk with the teenager not only without any distractions but in a friendly atmosphere as well. The agent wasn't very successful, though. Neal kept saying that Peter didn't have to worry about him getting to the Consulate, that everything was taken care of and that there wouldn't be any issues later. Needless to say that Peter only got more worried after those words but he couldn't do anything at the moment. The only thing that was clear to him was that Neal had too much free time on his hands and Peter was going to make sure the boy's schedule from now on would be even busier. Making this his first priority, Peter finally relaxed and enjoyed the rest of his calm evening.

Falling asleep wasn't a problem for Peter that night but waking up to check who was banging on his door at an ungodly hour proved itself to be an impossible task. Being trained to be prepared for anything, the agent made his way to the door, yawning uncontrollably and trying to convince himself not to throttle whoever that was at the other side of the door. Seeing Mozzie didn't help Peter with his mood. The agent silently pointed to the living room and went to pour himself some tea, hoping and praying that it would turn out to be a good tool in helping him to gain consciousness.

So there they were now. Two men were sitting across each other, staring and not saying anything. Peter was slowly drinking his tea, while Mozzie, probably for the first time in his entire life was struggling to find the right words.

When Peter opened the door, just for a moment Mozzie thought that the agent's face was red as a hot chilli pepper. Was it just Mozzie's mind that was playing tricks on him, or was it the light from a passing car that illuminated Peter's face like that, nobody can tell. The fact was that Mozzie got even more anxious than before. A brainsick idea crawled into his mind. Suit knew. He knew about Adler and about the stolen half of the zibeline.

But instead of yelling or throwing around quiet threats, which Mozzie more than expected from the agent, the latter was peacefully drinking his tea, clearly waiting for Mozzie to start talking. That tactic, in Mozzie's opinion, was rather intimidating, therefore, quite effective.

The short guy took a deep breath and hesitantly took out his stolen treasure from the pocket. He looked at it as if for the last time in his life and put it on the table in front of Peter. The agent seemed not to notice this and continued drinking as if nothing happened. Mozzie decided not to say anything, as staying alive for a few more minutes seemed to be a marvellous idea. Those couple of minutes, however, were agonisingly long and Mozzie sighed with relief when the agent finally took the last sip and put the cup aside.

Peter looked at the half of the zibeline in front of him and closed his eyes, pinching nose in frustration. The existence of this particular object would bring more problems than necessary. The fairy tale about pirate Gerard and his beloved Lady Beauchamp wasn't just a fairy tale after all, so it was possible the treasure wasn't just a figment of the imagination either.

Deciding that all of this could wait until the next morning, Peter looked at the young man, who was not in his best state. Mozzie's coat looked like it had seen better days and his boots were partly covered in mud, which wouldn't be so surprising to see, considering the time of the year, if it had been some other person. But it was Mozzie. Mozzie, who always said that if you look good, you feel good, and if you feel good, you do good. Mozzie, who somehow managed to pull off all of his colourful shirts, no matter how ridiculous the pattern was.

Peter continued watching in silence as Mozzie took off his glasses and absent-mindedly put them on the anything blocking his face, Mozzie looked younger and more… human. Peter smiled discreetly, remembering how Neal once told him the exact same thing, when he saw the agent without his usual work suit. The agent's smile dropped, even before it had time to form when he once again caught the sight of the zibeline.

"When and where?"

If Mozzie was taken by surprise by the sudden question, he didn't show it. He restored his glasses to their rightful place, and answered in a manner which he hoped sounded casual.

"The night we were looking for Neal. Adler's place."

Mozzie was trying not to look Peter in the eyes, but when silence became unbearable, he found the leftovers of his courage and looked up at the agent. Peter was clearly processing given information and was trying to figure out his next move.

"Who else knows about it?" asked Peter and immediately noticed Mozzie's uncomfortable fidgeting. "So Neal knows. Who else, Mozzie?"

"No one." replied Mozzie and after a moment of hesitation decided to come clean about everything. "And maybe Aaa… hmm A…"

"Adler!" roared Peter, forgetting that he was supposed to be quiet, in order not to wake everyone.

"I've been followed for a couple of days. There are only two of them. And the problem is that they are not an easy tail to lose, so it must be serious."

"What else should I know?"

"If I think of something, I'll let you know, Suit." replied Mozzie standing up and dusting off his coat, thus trying to appear his usual self. "You should tidy up this place!"

Mozzie marched through the living room and turned around. With confidence, which Mozzie didn't really feel, he went to the table and stretched his hand with a clear intention of taking back the half of the zibeline. Instead, Peter grabbed the younger man's hand with all his force and dragged him closer, so that the two of them were only inches apart.

"Just to be sure there won't be any incidents," said Peter, taking the zibeline with his free hand. "I'll keep this for the time being. And be assured that I'll also keep an eye on you, Haversham."

With those words Peter let Mozzie go and the con man quickly left the house, quietly closing the door behind him. The agent sat staring at the door for a few minutes and then finally made his way to the bedroom. Sleep was the last thing on his mind, though. The agent tried not to think about Adler, Mozzie, the zibeline and the whole ordeal and the more he tried the less he succeeded. After tossing and turning aimlessly, Peter lay on his back and stared at the ceiling.

"Hon?"

"Did I wake you?" asked Peter, turning to face his wife.

"You didn't. Your tossing did." mumbled Elizabeth and sat up. "Peter, what's bothering you so much?"

"Mozzie came."

"Well, that must be a fascinating story then. Let's go down to the kitchen. I want something salty. Do we have any fish left?"

"I think so, hon." replied Peter, following his wife after taking the flashlight from one of the drawers.

"Or maybe some mushrooms… And chocolate…" continued El, putting hands on her stomach and smiling. "Those three can't decide what they want."

* * *

Neal was sleeping peacefully until he felt like he was dying of thirst. The teenager stood up from his warm bed and with his eyes still half-closed went downstairs. He stopped on the last step, yawned and peacefully continued on his way. Trying to open his eyes to find the switch and turn on the lights, the boy was stopped by a sudden flash of light, coming from the kitchen. All sleep was gone in less than a second, and jumping instinctively away from the source of light, Neal managed to find the switch.

As the light came to life, scared to death Neal saw Peter and El, who were now squinting their eyes. El had a fork with a mushroom on it and Peter was sitting with a flashlight that was still on. Neal took a few minutes to comprehend what was going on but looking at the Burkes he still couldn't come up with a good explanation.

"What are you doing here?" asked both Peter and Neal in unison.

"I heard you coming and turned on the flashlight, so that you wouldn't fall down." answered Peter not waiting for Neal's reply.

The teenager stared at Peter for a few seconds and then finally remembered why he came down in the first place. Pouring himself some water, he sat between Peter and Elizabeth and unceremoniously yanked the flashlight from Peter's hands.

"Why  _were_  you sitting in the dark?"

"We never turn on the lights when going for a snack in the middle of the night." replied El, putting a piece of chocolate in her mouth. "Want some?"

"No, thanks. I just wanted a drink. Still about the lights, though. Why?"

"So that neighbours wouldn't spy on us." said Peter in such a way that Neal couldn't understand if the man was serious or just messing around.

"Who needs you at 3 in the morning?" mumbled Neal and yawned. "Night, guys."

"You sure you don't wanna stay? Then turn off the lights, will you?" said Peter, as Neal stood up and tossed the flashlight back into the agent's hands.

Neal fulfilled the request and went upstairs. He heard how Peter and El continued their quiet conversation and wishing to join them, but deciding against it, walked into his room. He opened the window to let in some air. The wind was quite strong and a few drops of rain fell on Neal's face, making him shut the window almost instantly. The teenager glanced at the door. No, they needed some time for themselves. Neal sat on the bed. The covers felt cold and uncomfortable and the pillow never looked as uninviting as it looked that moment. The rain outside was getting stronger and stronger, and in a matter of minutes it was banging against the window with a magnificent force. Neal lay down and closed his eyes. Sleep that didn't want to leave him at first, now was gone for good. The boy sat up in bed and looked at the window. The lyrics from a song made their way into Neal's head.  _The weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful._ Suddenly he didn't want to stay alone in a cold bed with pouring rain outside, while Peter and El were sitting in the semi-darkness with their flashlight. He wanted to be with his family. For once he wanted to take part in a conversation and not just be a topic of it. Making his final decision Neal went to the kitchen again.

"Can I join you? I promise not to turn on the lights."

"Of course, sweety. You're just in time. Tea is almost ready." said El, putting a plate full of pickled mushrooms in front of the boy.

Neal sat down and waited for Peter to bring him tea. Soon the agent put the cup in front of Neal and gave him a fork.

"What's that for?" asked Caffrey, looking at Peter in confusion.

"You wanna sit, you have to eat." answered Peter.

"Another custom of ours." added El.

Neal atmosphere in the dark kitchen was brighter than any sunny day. The wind outside was furious: it couldn't get inside and enjoy a warm night in a warm company.

"Interesting how your life can change completely in just a few months. Neal, take more mushrooms. Don't sit there like you're a just a guest." said Peter. "A year ago we didn't have kids at all. Now we have four."

"Four?" asked Neal, almost choking on a mushroom he took upon Peter's advice. The idea that Burkes thought of him as if he was their own was still strange to Neal. It wasn't an unpleasant thought in the least, but deep inside Neal was afraid that all of this was just yet another dream and soon he would wake up, feeling as if another part of his soul was broken with no chance to be repaired. The teenager knew that the Burkes were serious in their intentions. He saw the documents, he even signed them! Unfortunately, trust and confidence don't come overnight.

"Yeah, you're right. Five. You, triplets and Satchmo." replied Peter and took a sip from his cup, wondering silently how much liquid can find room in one man, as he was sure he never drank more tea in his life than that day.

"Speaking of changes." said Elizabeth, noticing Neal's strange expression and deciding to turn the conversation into another direction. "I was thinking about how to add some colour to our living room and I have an idea. What if we put Neal's painting on the wall over there." She pointed to an empty space near the bookcase. "I was thinking about the one with our garden on it. What do you think, Neal?"

"I'm not against it. The painting needs a frame, though. I think a transitional frame will be a good choice. You know, the one that blends the elements of the traditional and the contemporary." answered Neal, starting to feel so relaxed, that he didn't even realise he was feeling that way.

"Maybe we can try a multilayered frame composition?" suggested El.

"That could be great! What do you think, Peter?" asked Neal, turning to look at the agent.

"I think a dark brown frame would be nice." said Peter looking as if he put paintings in frames for a living and had at least twenty years of experience doing that.

Neal started laughing. For the first time in a long time it wasn't a strained laugh. He wasn't laughing because he was supposed to do that but because he felt like it. Laughing. Such a small thing that can bring pure happiness, yet it's taken for granted by the most of us…

"Hey, Neal," started Peter, as soon as all of them stopped laughing. "I haven't seen you painting for quite some time. What happened?"

"I think I lost inspiration." confessed the boy. "Usually, the ideas came naturally to me. I never had to think about what I was going to draw, but with everything that was happening, I…" Neal stopped talking for a moment, gathering his mingled thoughts in one piece. "I can't focus. Even when I have a clear vision of what I want to paint, I can't do it. I just sit staring at the blank piece of paper."

"It's all in your head, Neal. You need to clear your mind before you get to work. Visit some new places or maybe try doing something new." advised Elizabeth.

"Like studying history for a change." added Peter, smirking and getting a glare from Neal and a nod of approval from his wife.

After that the conversation drifted from one topic to the other, making Neal forget about everything. No problems, no secrets, no FBI, no school, no treasures… Just Peter, El, some snacks, and Satchmo, who was quietly sleeping under the table, while the weather was trying and failing miserably to dampen the mood. Neal's last thought before he finally got to bed and fell asleep that night, was that he didn't need to go anywhere to find his inspiration. It was always there, he just needed to look closer.

Despite Neal's hopes, morning met him with pouring rain and dark clouds, that looked threateningly heavy. That wasn't a big problem for Neal, though, as he had his own plans for the day and those plans didn't have anything to do with the weather. Neal's expectations were smashed to pieces once again when he came downstairs. Elizabeth informed him that Peter was already gone because of some issues with one of his current cases, but he left Neal a list of tasks. Did this man ever sleep? When did he even have time to make this list, considering that it was still early and Peter spent most of the time in the kitchen last night?

Neal fumed for a bit, looking through the paper, which was written in Peter's neat handwriting. So much for Neal's plans. Neal do this, Neal do that… He finally got some time for himself, and it doesn't matter that getting himself suspended was the way he got his freedom from school.

Thinking and rethinking all of the above, Neal helped El around the house with everything she wasn't able to do in her condition. They talked about everything and nothing, and Neal didn't notice the time when he forgot that he was supposed to be angry with Peter and by helping El completed almost everything that the agent asked him to do. With a clear conscience, the boy successfully ignored the point about homework on Peter's list, and went on with what he planned for himself in the first place: painting. Neal could try and be somebody else, he could go months without touching paint brushes, but he was always getting back to drawing as soon as his hands started shaking and scratching for a pencil. At times Neal thought that it was just a way of staying alive: painting high-quality forgeries meant he was needed in certain circles. At other times, at much brighter and happier times, when he didn't have to think of finding ways of providing for himself, Neal considered it to be a hobby. But right now he thought that it was more than that. It was a drug. A drug, without which Neal couldn't imagine his life.

Peter returned home a bit early that day. Coming into the house and kissing his wife, he looked at the stairs as if deciding whether he should go up or not.

"Did he at least do something from my list?" asked the agent, loosening the tie, before taking it off completely.

"Well, Neal helped me a lot with the household chores." started Elizabeth, massaging Peter's tensed shoulders.

"I sense a 'but' coming." sighed the agent, turning to look at his wife.

"He didn't even consider looking at his textbooks. Look at the bright side, hon. We have already started making some progress. Change needs time. We can't push Neal too hard."

"But we can't just stay in one place and pretend that everything is perfect. You are right, though. We are already making some progress." replied Peter. "So, how much time do we have before dinner?"

"About an hour. Will that be enough?" asked El. Getting a nod from Peter, she smiled and headed towards the living room. "Remember what we talked about, Peter!"

The agent didn't respond verbally, taking instead a small package, which he left on the table and headed to Neal's room. The man knocked gently and let himself in, upon hearing the invitation. Neal didn't even turn around, but continued working on his sketch.

Peter sat quietly for a few minutes, waiting for Neal to start the conversation himself, but when it became evident that the boy was too absorbed in his work, the older man decided to get everything in his own hands.

"Don't you want to ask what I've got here?"

That question effectively made Neal turn around. Peter smirked at Neal's confused and guilty expression and handed him the package.

"Got this on my way home. I don't know if they are any good but the shop assistant told me it was the best paint set they had, so…"

Peter stopped talking, noticing that once again he was being ignored. This time, however, Neal had a good reason for doing that. Caffrey was smiling, at first just staring at the box of paints and then turning it in every imaginable direction, and then at last opening it and examining the colours.

"It's just what I needed! Thanks, Peter!"

Peter didn't realise that a smile got on his face as well. He didn't correct Neal on the use of his name. Getting Neal to trust them was a hard work, but they were making progress: the Burkes had a plan of their own. The agent let himself tell the teenager a small lie. He knew exactly which paint set he needed to buy, as Elizabeth showed it to him earlier. But making it look like he spent a lot of time choosing the set was a better way to get Neal to open up more quickly.

Neal looked at the smiling agent and all of a sudden felt guilty about not doing his homework. Peter thought about him, while Neal just ignored the agent's task.

"So, buddy, what have you been up to all day?" asked Peter, as if he didn't know anything. He really hoped that Neal wouldn't lie.

To Peter's relief, Neal told him the whole truth. Well, almost the whole truth. The teenager said that he just didn't have enough time to start on his homework, leaving out the fact that he spent that time on his newest sketch.

"It's your lucky day!" said Peter in reply to Neal's confession. "We have plenty of time before dinner. I'll help you. Where's your history book?"

"Um, it's ok, Pe… Dad." mumbled Neal. "I can do it myself."

"Nah, it's not a problem for me. Bring the book, Neal."

"Nobody in my class does homework with their parents!" grumbled the boy, nevertheless, standing up and retrieving the book, before handing it to Peter with such a sad face, that the agent almost changed his mind about the whole idea. 'Almost' being the key word here.

"That's because nobody in your class has such an amazing father!" retorted Peter, getting comfortable in an armchair across from Neal, who sat on the bed.

The agent opened the book and was immediately met by a picture of a girl, that looked suspiciously like Kate. The drawing was made in pencil with the exception of the eyes, which Neal, and Peter didn't doubt for a second that it was Neal's doing, drew with a pen. The man shook his head and turned the page, only to find another picture of Kate. Peter flipped through the book. Almost every page was covered in small drawings and caricatures. On a few pages Peter even found himself. Miniature Burke was standing with hands on his hips and smoke was coming out of his ears.

Neal sighed. He forgot about the drawings in the book and now Peter saw everything. A few more seconds and a real smoke would be coming out of the man's ears.

"Well, I see that you have already got acquainted with the pages of this book, now it's time to get to know the content."

Neal let out the breath he didn't even notice he was holding when Peter said that and relaxed, preparing for a nice chat with the man he was starting to consider his father. A few minutes later, though, the boy understood that there wouldn't be any nice chats after all.

Studying history with Peter was such a tedious task, that Neal swore he would pay more attention at the lesson, if that meant he wouldn't have to listen to Peter read the same paragraph for three times in a row. Sitting at the dinner table and half-listening to Peter and El talk, Neal thought about how amazing it would be if Beauchamp was his history teacher. The teenager smiled to himself, remembering that he still had Beauchamp's card somewhere.

Two weeks flew by, during which Peter got more concerns and troubling thoughts. Firstly there was Neal, who was worried sick about going back to school and facing his so-called friends. During the entire weekend, the teenager walked around constantly sighing and to any of Peter's or El's questions answered that he was totally fine, which unnerved Peter to end. As it turned out later not only Peter wasn't thrilled with Neal's current mood. Even Elizabeth snapped at the boy a couple of times. That didn't bring any positive results, though, and looking at his pregnant wife, Peter remembered that he wanted to fix the leaking sink and spent the whole Sunday in the bathroom, successfully avoiding both Neal with his mood swings and a bad-tempered Elizabeth.

There was also another thing, or rather person, that was bugging the agent. Beauchamp. A couple of days ago, he went to Switzerland. Jones checked the information and confirmed that this trip didn't have anything to do with Beauchamp's job and agent Burke had a gut feeling that soon enough they would be facing the mystery of the zibeline once again. And he wasn't disappointed.

* * *

Everyone in the office stopped whatever they were doing and stared as Beachamp gracefully ascended the stairs, taking off his walnut-cloured coat. The man walked into agent Burke's office, while the rest of the agents were left with wishes to be there as well, instead of working on their own cases. Every person knew that Burke was working with something unusual and that this case would bring him recognition. Nevertheless, not even a single person gave a thought to the fact how much time and nerves were spent on that case, which is probably the most humane thing to do. We always tend to think about other people's success, all the while forgetting about the price they have to pay for that.

"I have to admit, Switzerland is an amazing country, agent Burke!" exclaimed Beauchamp as he sat down. "Have you ever been there?"

"Unfortunately, I didn't have such an opportunity." replied Peter, closing the door and getting to his own place. It was only past lunchtime, but the agent was already feeling exhausted. With Neal going back to school things got even more complicated. Peter saw that his boy was having trouble at school but he couldn't do anything about it, not until Neal would ask for his help.

"After we find the treasure, you should definitely make time in your busy schedule for a trip to this country! Its history is fascinating!"

Peter raised his eyebrows at the pronouncement about the treasure, as he still wasn't convinced that it truly existed. Beauchamp only smiled and shifted in his chair to get more comfortable.

"I should probably start from the beginning, Agent Burke. Do you remember those numbers that were carved on the inside of the fan? Just before you showed them to me, I was looking through some old documents, including my grandfather's will. Among other things he left me there was his safety-deposit box in UBS. Despite the fact that I had all the papers and the key, I never had a chance to see what was there. You see, the key was not enough. To open the box I needed a code, which, you could tell, was missing."

"So when you saw the numbers on the fan, you assumed they were the missing code?"

"Exactly. My grandfather never did anything without a reason, so I had to try out a new theory."

"By the looks of it, your trip was quite successful, Mr Beauchamp."

"Indeed it was." answered the man and retrieved a carefully wrapped package from his bag.

Peter even leaned over the table a little to get a closer look at the object, which Beauchamp was slowly retrieving from a special case. Inside there was a simple brown notebook. The agent glanced at the professor, who was smiling, like he just solved one of the world's greatest mysteries. Peter looked at the notebook again, but he still didn't notice anything particularly unusual about it.

"Ah, I'm sorry, Mr Beauchamp, but I don't see…"

"It's Béatrice's diary." said Beauchamp with triumph. "Technically, it's one of the many notebooks that was inside the safety-deposit box. But this one," here Beauchamp gently poked the notebook with his finger, "will lead us to the treasure."

"And you're so sure because…" Peter stopped in mid-sentence, waiting for the reply from a smiling Beauchamp, who kept silent for a few moments.

The moment Beauchamp was about to begin his explanation, the door burst open and Neal, with a few agents in tow, who were clearly trying to stop the teenager from entering the office, stumbled inside.

"Hey, Dad! I need to talk to you about… Oh, good afternoon, Mr Beauchamp!"

"Ah! Neal, is it?" asked Beauchamp, standing up and shaking hands with the boy. The memory of one of his most grateful listeners stuck with the man and he was more than excited to see the teenager once again. "Come on in. I'm sure you'll be able to appreciate what I'm about to share more than anybody else." said Beauchamp, putting his hand on Neal's shoulder.

Peter watched Neal closely while the boy was making small talk with Beauchamp. Something was off. Of course Peter was glad to hear Neal call him 'dad' without stumbling on this word but there was something strange about it. Well, he would just have to wait.

"Mr Beauchamp," started Peter. "May I remind you that this is a federal investigation. I'm against allowing a minor to be present."

Neal stared at the agent with eyes of a puppy, who was kicked by his beloved master and sighed with so much sorrow, that almost any human being would give the boy anything he would ask for. Anybody but Peter. Nevertheless, Beauchamp was present, therefore, the agent decided not to sort things out in front of him. Besides, there was nothing to sort out yet. As Beauchamp was insistent about Neal present during their conversation, the teenager was allowed to stay.

"So, from Béatrice's diary I found some rather interesting details about life in the 16th century, but, unfortunately, we do not have the needed amount of time to discuss things that are seemingly irrelevant to our case. So, I'll go straight to the question of where did the treasure, that we are seeking, came from."

"So there is a treasure…" murmured Neal, looking attentively at the storyteller, like a wary dog. And Peter was looking like that at Neal.

"Indeed there is, young man. If you still remember the tragic, yet beautiful story of Gerard and Béatrice's love, you'll be able to recall that the poor man was condemned to the death penalty upon being accused of piracy. According to Béatrice's diary, Gerard told her a lot about his wanderings, including the story of how he unwillingly became a captain of a pirate ship. Dissatisfied and displeased sailors were preparing for the rebellion and Gerard understood that he would either have to take the rebellion into his own hands, thus stopping the bloodshed and madness that was about to happen, or he could stand up to the rest of the sailors and die in the process. Gerard was a man of high principles and morals, but his love for Béatrice was stronger than anything else in this sinful world."

Agent Burke was listening to the story and all the while was watching Neal's reaction carefully. The last time Neal was listening to Beauchamp's story his eyes were glassy and he was obviously imagining everything that was going on in the story, undoubtfully thinking about love and adventures. This time, however, the teenager's eyes were focused and his mind wasn't wandering in the far away seas with the pirates.

"So after the captain was brutally killed and the sailors took over the ship, Gerard was named a new captain. Need I say that the pirate's faith is sad and challenging but our young hero had a great cause and that was the only reason why he continued robbing different vessels. In her diary Béatrice wonders if Gerard had ever killed a man…" Beauchamp stopped and made a dramatic pause. "As a captain, Gerard always had good profits. He was hiding everything, waiting for the day when he would be able to come back to his beloved. And one day, a Spanish ship, loaded with all kinds of valuable jewellery, gold and money got into the hands of Gerard and his crew. After that, the man, who was no longer innocent and naïve, but who was still madly in love, located his beloved and went to the ball to meet Béatrice. And what happened after that we already know."

"Mr Beauchamp," addressed the man Neal. "Last time you also mentioned the map. Does Béatrice write anything about the location of the supposed treasure in her diary?"

"Neal, I think you've heard enough." interrupted Peter and stood up. "Go home and start on your homework."

"But, Daaaad!" whined Neal loudly.

"Stop it." was the answer from the agent, who started dragging the kid out of the office. "I'm glad you stopped by. See you in the evening." With those words Peter closed the door and locked it, leaving Caffrey outside fuming.

Neal didn't have any reason to stay at the office, so he slowly walked back to the elevators, greeting Jones on his way, who returned back from investigating a case. The teenager went outside and looked around. In a few moments he spotted the person he was looking for and headed there.

"So, did you manage to get any information? Why did Beauchamp come to the FBI?"

"Peter threw me out of the office before I could get anything useful. The only thing that is certain is that the treasure really exists and by the looks of it Beauchamp knows where to find it."

"It's still better than nothing."

"I guess so… Moz, we need to be careful. Peter suspects something."

"Don't worry, my friend. I'll take care of everything. But I need to know one thing, Neal. I need to be sure that you won't back away from this. Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yes, Mozzie. I'm sure."

"Then I'll contact you when the time is right. Take care." answered Mozzie and quickly disappeared.

Mozzie glanced back to make sure Neal wasn't following him. He didn't need the teenager to know what he was planning behind his back: that he was going to meet Adler.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is going to happen next? What do you think Mozzie's plan is and how did Neal get involved in the whole ordeal? Let me know in the comments if you enjoyed the chapter or not. I'm always glad to read your thoughts. Until next time!

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Click that button down there and review! I LOVE reading your thoughts. And everyone who left reviews before knows that I'm nice and don't bite! Hope you enjoyed!


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